


Throw Away The Key

by laylabinx



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Angelina is dead, Angst and Feels, Blood and Injury, Bromance, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Grimm whump, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Misunderstandings, Monroe and Nick's Wesen kids come to the rescue, Wesen Circus, hurt nick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-10 09:11:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5579734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laylabinx/pseuds/laylabinx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm not the monster in this situation, Nick. You are. You're just as bad as the creatures you hunt."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Murderer

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends! Okay, this story was set way back in Season 1 when Nick first found out about his heritage and everything was still really wonky. I wrote this before Rosalie came in so she doesn't appear in the story =/ It's pretty dark for a while but it will have a happy ending I promise!

He gets the call early Tuesday morning and almost immediately he senses something is wrong. It's his mother…his mother never calls him. Instantly he thinks of his father, his older brother and his sister-in-law, and his mind is racing through all the possible reasons for the call. His mother assures him that his family is fine but there's something in her voice, some lingering hesitation that sets him on edge like nails dragging across a chalkboard. He wants to ask, he needs to know, but he's afraid to. Something is very, _very_ wrong and his mother is speaking softly in that quiet, gentle voice she used to use when she was trying to comfort him when he was a child. His grip on the phone is tight enough to make the plastic creak beneath his fingers but he hardly notices it. Then she says it, three simple words that hit him like a sledgehammer in the gut: Angelina is dead.

The kitchen suddenly seems huge, a vast, yawning chasm of linoleum and disinfected countertops. Some kind of disbelieving noise escapes from his throat and he swallows convulsively. He tries to form words but he's suddenly forgotten how to speak and all that comes out is a shuddering breath instead. His mother is trying to comfort him, empty consolations that come from thousands of miles away over a series of telephone wires. _Angelina is dead…Angelina is dead…Angelina is dead…_ He feels his knees buckle beneath him and he's sitting in a kitchen chair now, suddenly bone tired and more weary than he's ever felt in his entire life. It feels like the entire house has fallen down on top of him and he doesn't even have the energy to brush the dust away.

He hears himself mumble "when?" but the word comes out more like a croak than a question. Frankly, he's amazed it came out at all; his throat feels like it's coated in hot tar and sandpaper. His mother tells him it happened yesterday, possibly last night, and that she had gotten the call from Angelina's uncle earlier that morning. He remembers him vaguely, a huge man with hands like catcher's mitts and an easy-going grin always plastered on his face. He'd helped raise Angelina and her brothers when they were younger, he'd been there for his college graduation. Of course he had called his mother; he and Angelina had dated pretty seriously for a while and there had been very light talk of marriage a couple of times. His family was practically part of her family and it only seemed natural they should be informed of her death.

His mother is still speaking but her words are little more than noise in his ears. She's telling him where the funeral is going to be held and what day, she's asking him if he plans to be there. He's catching bits and pieces of her conversation, random words and phrases, but they're swirling and twisting around in his head like tumbleweeds caught in the middle of a hurricane and he barely hears anything. _Angelina is dead…Angelina is dead…Angelina is dead…_

He doesn't want to know, really he doesn't, but morbid curiosity forces the question out of his mouth before he can stop himself. "How?"

His mother hesitates, the pause heavy and weighted like a living thing, and he can practically hear her trying to come up with some way to avoid the question. He asks again, a little more insistent this time because now that it's out there in the open, he has to know. He _needs_ to know.

There's another brief pause but she relents and tells him that Angelina had been shot. She hadn't just been killed, she'd been murdered. That realization is bad enough but there's something his mother isn't saying, something she's leaving out of the conversation. He coaxes her on and her voice is fluttery and nervous like a bird trying to escape when she finally does answer. She tells him Angelina's uncle said something about her being killed by a Grimm and suddenly the conversation takes on an entirely different tone. Angelina was killed by a Grimm…shot by a Grimm…he only knows one Grimm but that's impossible…he would never-

His mother is talking again, her words just barely filtering past his raging thoughts. She's telling him to be careful, to watch out for himself, because the Grimm supposedly lived close to where he was and that Angelina was killed right outside of Portland. It's suddenly all too much because that one sentence confirms his worst fear. Nick had killed Angelina. Nick had murdered her. Angelina was dead because of Nick.

He can't hear his mother anymore, he can't hear anything over the rush of blood through his veins. Angelina was dead…gone… _murdered_ …and it was all because of Nick… He feels physically sick and it's everything he can do not to gag as a strangled gasp escapes his throat. This can't be happening…there has to be a mistake…it can't be real…He can feel his claws digging tiny puncture wounds into the palms of his hands and the pain is enough to convince him that this isn't a dream that he can wake up from. _Nick murdered Angelina…_

He hears himself ramble some excuse to his mother in order to get off the phone because he feels if he has to hear anything else about Angelina's death…about how a Grimm killed her…about how _Nick_ killed her…

He ends the call and his mother is still mid-sentence; he'll call her back later and apologize but he can't right now…he can't do anything right now. All he knows is that Angelina is dead and it's hard to breathe.

The phone drops with a loud, clanking thud onto the wooden tabletop and it seems to echo in the silence of the house. The kitchen is looming over him like an unexplored cavern and he's staring at the window near the sink like he's never seen it before. The sun is just barely beginning to rise over the edge of the horizon and it will shape up to be a beautiful day. Monroe takes a shuddering breath and drops his head into his hands, grinding the heels of his hands into his eyes in an effort to stop the stinging flow of tears. _Angelina is dead…Angelina is dead…Angelina is dead…and Nick killed her…_

**OOOOO**

Nick shows up on his front porch around 10:30 and he can smell him before he ever gets out of the car. He can smell dried blood, _Angelina's blood_ , and it's hanging on his skin like macabre cologne. Any doubts he might have had about Nick being responsible for her death are shattered and he can hear the deep, permeating growl that rumbles in the back of his throat when Nick knocks on his door. "Monroe? Monroe, open up, I need to talk to you."

He actually gnashes his teeth at the sound of the younger man's voice, his vision blurring red around the edges. Nick has never been one to back down from a challenge but he's got some kind of gall coming here now. He has nothing to say to him, he doesn't want to hear Nick's excuses and the reasons behind his actions, he-

He's in his house. There's a brief jiggle of the doorknob and before he can turn around to lock the deadbolt, Nick is standing in the doorway, grey eyes large and leveled on him. Damn…he forgot he'd given him a key a few weeks ago. Monroe actually snarls at him and any lesser man probably would have run for the hills but Nick stands his ground. "Monroe, please, I-"

"Out," he growls and there's more wolf than human in his voice right now. His vision is sharp and enhanced but everything has a crimson tint to it. He sees the rumpled appearance of Nick's clothes, his disheveled hair, the dusting of stubble along his jaw line, and he can sill smell the dried blood. It's everywhere. He doesn't see it on him but it's there, wedged deep in the pores of his skin and permanently painting his hands red. _Nick is a murderer…Nick killed Angelina…_

The pinprick wounds in his hands caused by his claws are re-opened as he clenches his fists at his sides. "Get. Out."

Nick does the complete opposite and takes a step inside the house, completely disregarding any sense of self-preservation he may possess. Monroe bares his teeth again, feels his faces shift forms, and the wolf inside is not content to be kept in the dark anymore. It takes every bit of self control he has not to lunge across the room and tear Nick to shreds. He doesn't though…he won't sink to his level. Nick is the murderer here, not him.

"Monroe, you have to listen to me-" Nick tries again and Monroe turns and walks into the kitchen because it's getting harder and harder to keep the wolf from going straight for the jugular. Nick follows him, ever the dutiful cop, still trying to talk to him. "Monroe, I'm sorry…I didn't want to do it but-"

"But what?" he growls, turning on the younger man so fast it nearly makes Nick run into him. "But what, Nick? You didn't want to do it but you had to? You didn't have any other choice? You were just doing your job?" He bares down on him, challenging him in the openness of the kitchen. It seems ironic now that they'd had so many pleasant conversations in this very kitchen, so many times Nick had come to him for advice, for information. He'd shared his home with a Grimm…he should have known better…

Nick doesn't yield and instead takes another step forward. "Monroe, I had to…she was going to kill the entire family! I didn't have a choice!"

"You _did_ have a choice!" Monroe roars and before he can stop himself he has Nick by the shoulders and has him pinned up against the wall. "You had the choice not to shoot and you chose to kill her! You killed her, Nick! You shot her and left her to die like a dog in the street! You killed her!"

Absolute guilt and remorse flashes through Nick's eyes and he opens his mouth to say something else but Monroe cuts him off. "Did you even try to save her? Did you give her any warning at all or did you just open fire?"

"Monroe, I tried…I tried to help her after it happened but I-"

"But you didn't!" he snarls, releasing Nick with a violent shove that's hard enough to knock him off his feet and send him sprawling onto the floor. Nick hits the edge of the refrigerator with enough force to make it wobble violently but it somehow manages to stay upright. "It doesn't matter what you tried to do! She's dead and it's your fault!"

"I know…" Nick shakes his head and looks down, not attempting to get up off the floor. "I know and I'm sorry…I'm so sorry-"

"You're sorry?" He can't help the harsh bark of laughter that cuts from his mouth. It sounds like lightning hitting a metal rod. "You say you're sorry and you think that just makes everything better? Sorry doesn't change anything, Nick! Sorry doesn't bring her back!"

Nick stands then, slightly shaky and unsure. "What do you want me to say then? That I should have just stepped aside and let her murder an entire family? That her slaughter would have been justified and I should have just let it happen? She was going to kill all of them Monroe! There were kids in that house and she was going to kill them! I told her to stand down, I gave her fair warning! Maybe you just haven't seen the side of your girlfriend that I have!"

"Don't you dare turn this on me!" Monroe growls and he's up in front of Nick again, inches from the younger man's face. "Don't you dare try to make this out to be a necessary kill!"

"It was necessary! You're just too blind to see it!"

Monroe grabs him again, his hands moving before his mind has a chance to catch up to what he's doing. He grips the front of Nick's shirt and lifts him bodily, throwing him across the kitchen table with enough force to send a long, splintering fissure down the center of the table. Nick hits the ground hard and Monroe is right back on top of him, slamming him into the wall again and causing a shower of plaster to rain down from the ceiling. One hand grips Nick's throat tightly and the younger man's eyes widen for a second. He wraps both hands around Monroe's wrist and tries to shake him off but it's useless. Monroe is holding him up with one hand, there's no way he's going to break the grip unless he damn well pleases. Nick's eyes begin to flutter and he's just about to lose consciousness when Monroe drops him into an undignified heap on the ground, glaring down at him in disgust.

"Get out," he snarls murderously, his eyes a gleaming, piercing crimson. Nick is coughing and gasping and it has absolutely no effect of him, it only disgusts him more. "Get out of my house and don't ever come back. If I ever see you again I will kill you." There's no trace of humor in his voice and his expression is that of an Alpha wolf looking down at a threat.

Nick coughs again and looks back up at him. "Monroe-"

Monroe ignores him and grabs a fistful of his shirt, jerking him to his feet and hauling him to the door like a rag doll. He literally throws Nick outside, watching as the younger man tumbles off the porch and lands in an awkward pile on the driveway. There's blood blossoming on his hands and forearms from the impact with the concrete but Monroe doesn't care. Nick is trying to pick himself up and all Monroe can do is glare at him. "You know, I thought you were different…I told everyone you weren't like the other Grimms…I told them you were good." He shakes his head in revulsion as if looking at Nick is making him physically sick. "But you're not…you're just like the rest of them."

Nick looks up, his eyes wide and glassy with a mixture of unreadable emotions. He looks like a scolded puppy, a chastised child, and the shame on his face is almost palpable.

"I'm not the monster in this situation, Nick. You are. You're just as bad as the creatures you hunt." He can almost see Nick's body deflating at those words but it doesn't stop him. "I was wrong about you, Nick. We're not friends and I was an idiot to think so…Get out of here and don't ever come back." Monroe growls one last time, taking one last look at the heartbroken look on Nick's face before he slams the door and locks it.


	2. Days Go By

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roddy's not too eager to end up on the shit-list of a very emotionally fragile Blutbad.
> 
> He walks to the door, pausing with his hand on the handle for just a second before he opens it. "You and I both know Nick isn't a killer," he calls into the hallway, knowing full well that his voice will reach Monroe in the kitchen. "You're his friend, Monroe…he wouldn't do something like that unless there was no other option…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, more emotional turmoil in this chapter but I promise the action will pick up in the next one; its not going to be one big angst fest for too much longer. Also, look! Roddy is in here! :D

Angelina's funeral is on Friday but Monroe doesn't go. There's an entire list of reasons why he doesn't show up, the most glaring of which being the fact that he smells like Nick. His clothes, his furniture, his house, hell, basically everything he owns now smells like Nick thanks to the Grimm's consistent presence in his life. He's washed and disinfected nearly everything that's not nailed to the floor in an effort to get rid of the smell but it's no use; he can still smell Nick's scent clinging to his clothes and skin like it's a part of him now.

The thought makes him angry and he growls at nothing as he sits in the empty kitchen. He hates how much faith he put in Nick, how much trust. He was a fool. Nick is a Grimm, killing Grimm creatures is built into his DNA like a written code in a computer. He should have known better, should have seen it coming. It was only a matter of time before Nick realized his true potential and then he'd be just as bad as the Grimms from the stories his mother told him as a child. He hates that Nick had wormed his way into his life, one day at a time, and now it shoots down to his core every time he thinks about him. It hurts deep, aching and raw like salt being rubbed into an open wound, and he knows he has no one to blame but himself. He should have known better…

He sends a wreath to the funeral and vows to offer his condolences to Angelina's family once the Grimm's smell is out of his clothes. He feels it would be somehow disrespectful to show up to pay his respects reeking of the thing that killed Angelina; that wouldn't turn out well for anyone involved.

He's been keeping himself busy, trying to keep his mind off of Angelina and Nick and the stabbing pain of betrayal he feels every time he thinks of the detective. He'd gotten a commission on Wednesday and it had been like a Godsend. The clock was an antique, something that would take all of his concentration and skill in order to repair it, and he had thrown himself into his work for the past three days. He welcomes the work gladly; it helps him think about anything other than what's going on in his life at the moment.

The TV is on in the living room, dull background noise that washes over him in electrostatic waves. Some game show is playing idly on the screen, the colors bright and flashing and the music happy and cheerful. The host is talking to one of the contestants and she's excitedly telling him where she's from. Monroe ignores her and tinkers with a few tiny screws connecting the hands of the clock to the face. He'd told the owner that the clock would be repaired by Monday and he fully intends to keep that promise.

The game show shifts after about twenty minutes in favor of the evening news and there's a headlining story about the home invasion Monday night. Monroe pauses what he's doing for the briefest second, trying his best not to listen to the story presented on the screen. The anchor is doing an interview with the family involved, asking them about their experience and for details of the break in. Monroe hears them refer to Nick as "their savior" and "a hero" and it makes him sick to his stomach. Do these people not realize that "their savior" murdered a woman in cold blood? Do they know that Nick's "heroic" acts left someone dead with a grieving family? He's so disgusted by their praise and admiration of the Grimm that he stands up and walks into the living room to turn the TV off.

The family onscreen looks like the tumbled directly out of a _Better Homes and Gardens_ magazine. The husband is sitting in a stiff-backed chair across from the anchor, holding his wife's hand in both of his own. A pretty little girl who looks no older than four is sitting in her mother's lap, clutching the sleeves of her dress like she's afraid something is going to pop out from behind the chair. Next to her are two boys, about seven and nine, and they're standing quietly beside their mother's chair, watching the anchor with wide eyes. Everyone in the family is blond and blue-eyed and they could be poster children for the Aryan race but they look like a perfectly happy, normal family. The camera shifts a bit and with it their outward appearance does as well: they're all Bauerschwein.

The husband is talking slowly and the camera makes the bruises and scrapes on his face look all the more vivid; it's obvious he took the worst of the beatings. There's an ugly bruise on the underside of his wife's jaw and the hand resting in her husband's is bandaged across the knuckles. The children don't have any obvious injuries but they're staying very close to their parents which is almost worse; they're absolutely terrified to be more than a few feet from them at any given time.

The interview continues on for a few minutes and all Monroe can do is stare at the family. He feels a heavy sort of sensation in the pit of his stomach like a lead balloon sinking into a puddle of molasses. Unless there's something he doesn't know about them, the Bauerschwein family looks completely innocent; he has no idea what caused Angelina to attack them. She'd always been hotheaded, reacting before she ever thought through her actions, and right now he really wishes he knew the reason for her attack.

The anchor segues away from the family and casually mentions that when asked for an interview, Detective Nick Burkhardt refused to comment on the matter. A clip of footage rolls across the screen of a reporter following Nick up the stairs to the police station, asking for a moment of his time, but Nick coolly brushes him off and disappears into the station. The image of Nick, even though it's just on the screen, is enough to make Monroe growl low in the back of his throat and he forgets his previous train of thought. All he sees is red and he reaches forward, unplugging the TV and throwing the remote out the window.

**OOOOO**

The Sunday paper is littered with stories reading "Hero Cop Saves Family From Brutal Home Invasion". There's a story on the front page that goes on to connect to one on the third page and finally there's an interview with the chief of police on the sixth page under the Community label. Monroe has to fight the urge to throw the paper into the street; the only thing that keeps him from doing so is the fact that he needs the coupons from the middle of the paper. He snatches it off the front porch with a huff of contempt and drags it inside, tossing the paper on the kitchen table with a flick of his wrist. He separates the coupons from the center section of the paper and lets the rest fall to the floor, making an avid point not to look at the image of Nick on the front page.

Everyone is making Nick out to be this great hero, Portland's finest who selflessly put himself in the line of fire to protect the innocents. There's only been a handful of mentions about Angelina's death but most of it has been kept relatively quiet out of respect for her family and the family involved in the attack. The interview with the chief of police said that no charges would be filed against Nick for the shooting. The thought makes Monroe grit his teeth. Of course they wouldn't charge him, why would they? Nick is a hero after all, he was only doing his job when he shot Angelina and killed her in cold blood. Apparently killing a woman is perfectly justifiable in the great state of Oregon as long as the detective involved says he's sorry at the end of the day. Monroe's claws rip through the thin paper of the coupons he's clipping and he growls quietly to himself. He tosses the useless coupons to the floor and drags a hand over his face tiredly.

He's felt more exhausted in this week alone than he ever has in his life. He feels strung out both mentally and physically, pushed to his limits in every sense, and the weekend brought almost no relief. He'd finished working on the clock the night before, working tirelessly into the night like a man possessed, and had finished close to three am. He'd hoped the late night would help him sleep, take away some of the swirling thoughts from his mind and give him a few hours of peace but it hadn't. He had woken up that morning at 6:30 sharp, the same time he did every morning, but it was a physical effort to pull himself out of bed. He was wide awake but his body felt like it was made of lead, heavy and unresponsive against the mattress. For a moment, he thought about just laying there and letting the day pass him by but he couldn't do that. The longer he laid there, the more he thought of Angelina and Nick and how everything had gotten so fucked up in a matter of hours. It still made his stomach clench every time he thought about it and there was no way to turn the memories off.

He's staring blankly at the kitchen table now, digging his fingernails into the well-worn grooves of the table with barely any thought. The wood is stabbing into the skin beneath his fingernails and there's the possibility that it hurt but he's honestly so numb he can't feel it. His mind is a hundred miles away and physical pain doesn't hold a candle to the emotional turmoil he's battling against.

He finds himself glancing down at the discarded paper on the floor, his eyes unintentionally locking onto Nick's face on the front page. The detective isn't looking directly at the camera, his gaze is shifted slightly downward and to the side and his eyes are empty and haunted like a soldier coming back from the battlefield. There's a hollowness in his cheeks, a paleness to his skin that can't be covered up by the lights and lenses of a camera. Nick looks gaunt and weary in the picture and it has nothing to do with long nights at the station. A very small part of Monroe, sliver-thin and fleeting, notices this and there's the briefest flicker of concern. Almost instantly it's smothered and extinguished, replaced once again by the bone-deep hatred that's been plaguing him all week. Nick doesn't deserve his sympathy, he doesn't deserve pity or concern. Nick is a killer, a murderer, and he's no better than a feral animal set loose in the streets.

Monroe gathers the pile of papers in one hand and takes them over to the trashcan, dumping them unceremoniously in the bin and walking back to the living room to pick up his cello.

**OOOOO**

The next time the topic of Nick is brought up it doesn't come from the news or media but from Roddy. He's sitting in Monroe's living room, violin perched in his lap while Monroe rummages through his folders of sheet music looking for something for them to play. It had been less out of lessons and more out of the mutual love for classical music that had drawn the two of them together for weekly sessions. Roddy had God-given talent and Monroe had years of practice and a pretty extensive library of sheet music that could be played on any kind of stringed instrument and the arrangement just kind of worked. They had been meeting every Thursday for a little over a month and a half now to work their way through a random leaf of sheet music Monroe would magically produce out of a thick Manila folder he kept in his desk. Obviously they hadn't met the previous Thursday and Roddy would have forgone the meeting today if Monroe hadn't called him and asked if he planned on stopping by. It seemed like he needed something to take his mind off of things so Roddy had agreed and stopped by later that afternoon for their weekly session.

Monroe finds a sheet of music to satisfy himself with and passes it to Roddy, walking over to the corner and dragging his cello case into the middle of the room. Roddy is reading over the music but his eyes keep shifting to Monroe, taking in the lines of fatigue that stretch across his face like a road map. Monroe looks tired and worn, his beard a bit longer and his hair shaggier than it normally is. Roddy is pretty sure he knows the reason but he's not sure how to breech the subject so he keeps his mouth shut for the time being and glances over the music again.

They work their way through the first few lines, making small mistakes every once in a while that they backtrack to correct. Roddy skips a chord at one point and curses himself because his concentration is really off today; he's distracted and it's coming through in his playing.

"Something on your mind?" Monroe asks casually, glancing up from his cello and locking eyes with the teenager. He must have noticed Roddy's distraction as well and it's particularly glaring because usually Monroe is the one who forgets chords and has to go back to fix it.

Roddy is distinctly uncomfortable, his gaze dropped to the floor and he can't really meet Monroe's eyes. He's wanted to say something for over an hour now but hasn't been able to figure out how to bring it up. Now Monroe had practically given him an open door and he's freezing up like an awkward teenager making a presentation in front of the class.

He swallows and shrugs, still not quite able to meet the Blutbad's gaze. "I'm sorry…" He says finally and his voice sounds magnified in the silence of the living room. "You know…about Angelina…"

Monroe visibly stiffens and his fingers curl convulsively around the neck of his cello. Sharp fingernails dig into the polished wood and Roddy is pretty sure he's not even aware he's doing it. There's something not all together human, something very canine, that flashes across his features for the briefest second and Monroe does this weird full-body shudder like he's trying to physically rope in the wolf inside. He clears his throat after a second, the sound rough and raw around the edges, and nods slowly.

"Thanks." That one word speaks volumes but there's so much left unsaid: he's hurt, he's angry, he's grieving.

Roddy takes a deep breath and steels himself because this next question is going to be monumentally more difficult than the first venture into this conversation. "Have you talked to Nick about it?"

This time, the neck of the cello creaks and whimpers under the clenching of Monroe's fist as his fingers curl tightly around the increasingly brittle wood. His teeth are clenched and there's a flicker of red in his eyes but Roddy stays where he is, grounded to spot and knowing better than to make any sudden movements right now.

"No." The word comes out sharp and bitter, stinging like a slap and filled with just as much aggression

"Why not?" Roddy presses because, hell, he's come this far and if he's going to go down in flames he might as well make sure the fires are nice and hot.

"Because there's nothing to say." Monroe stands suddenly and walks away from him, disappearing into the kitchen and leaving his cello cracked and discarded on the floor.

Roddy stands as well, taking the time to lay his violin across the arm of the couch before following him into the kitchen. "Monroe, come on man, you know Nick wouldn't do something like that unless he didn't have a choice."

"Drop it, Roddy," Monroe growls and the warning is evident in his voice.

"Did you at least try to figure out what happened?"

"Seriously, kid, leave it alone. I'm warning you."

"Monroe-"

"Enough Roddy!" Monroe snarls and he's suddenly right up in Roddy's face, baring down on him like he had on Nick a few days before. Roddy almost manages to contain the shudder that works its way through him.

"There is nothing to say! I don't want to know the reasons and I don't want to hear Nick's excuses! He shot Angelina! He killed her and that's all that matters!" Monroe takes a step backwards but his glare never leaves Roddy's face. "He may not have meant to do it but it doesn't change the fact that he did."

He growls low in his throat and shakes his head, fingers curling over the countertop in a white-knuckled grip. "Now did you come over here just to pester me about Nick or did you want something else?"

Roddy shifts his weight awkwardly from one foot to another, debating whether or not he should push the issue further. He's never seen Monroe like this and while he knows the Blutbad is still grieving for his ex, his behavior seems a little bit irrational. He figures Monroe just needs time and eventually everything will work itself out. He hopes so at least. He shrugs a bit helplessly, raising one shoulder and letting it fall with a slump. "No…no, I guess I didn't."

Monroe nods but doesn't look at him, keeps his back to him as he faces the sink, and Roddy can see the flicker of crimson in his eyes as the inner wolf struggles to break loose again. He takes this as his cue to leave and walks back into the living room, retrieving his violin from the arm of the couch and setting it back in its case. Monroe doesn't try to stop him, doesn't speak to him at all, and it's probably for the best; Roddy's not too eager to end up on the shit-list of a very emotionally fragile Blutbad.

He walks to the door, pausing with his hand on the handle for just a second before he opens it. "You and I both know Nick isn't a killer," he calls into the hallway, knowing full well that his voice will reach Monroe in the kitchen. "You're his friend, Monroe…he wouldn't do something like that unless there was no other option…"

There's a snarl from the kitchen and Monroe manages to get out a few words that don't sound all together human. "Goodnight Roddy." It's final and those two words were all it took to let Roddy know that the conversation was over.

Roddy sighs heavily and jerks the door open, stepping outside onto the front porch. "Whatever," he mumbles irritably before letting the door swing closed behind him and setting off in a brisk walk down the street.

It takes Monroe a good fifteen minutes to calm down after the conversation with Roddy. He's still gripping the countertops, his claws having dug tiny grooves into the inlaid wood. His breathing is hard and fast and he's just managed to keep the wolf from taking over completely. It's snapping and snarling internally and he can't help the low, feral growls that continuously emanate from his throat while he's waiting to come down.

Deep, _deep_ down inside, to the very base of his core, he knows Roddy is right and that Nick's decision to shoot was probably one of the toughest choices he's had to make since discovering his Grimm abilities in the first place. From everything he'd seen or heard, no matter how unwillingly, in the media, it appears that Nick really didn't have a choice and it was a life or death decision on his hands. Still, it didn't make it any easier to accept the fact Angelina was gone. Sure, Angelina had always been quick tempered and impulsive and he knew that one day her actions would catch up with her and unfortunately it happened to be Nick that caught her in the act. He wishes it had been someone else though, someone he didn't know personally. It would have been easier to accept if it had been Hank or the other cop, Wu, who had pulled the trigger but it wasn't, it was Nick. That's what hurts the worst.

Monroe sighs heavily and drops his head into his hands, suddenly more tired than he can stand. The constant bombardment of anger and grief has left him exhausted and there doesn't seem to be a light at the end of the tunnel anytime soon. Part of him wants to hear Nick's side of the story; he wants to hear it directly from him and not from a reporter on the television. He wants Nick to look him in the eye and tell him every last detail of that night and explain to him why he didn't have a choice when he took the shot. He wants to believe he's telling the truth but believing means forgiving and he's not ready to do that just yet. He can't forgive Nick right now and pretend like everything will suddenly go back to normal. Deep down he knows that Nick was right, that Roddy was right, that everyone was right, but he can't accept that just yet.

Monroe turns and walks back into the living room, casting a sidelong glance at his cracked and essentially ruined cello on the floor. He almost gets angry again, feels that bubble of white-hot rage roil within him like a churning pool of lava, but instead he's just tired. He sighs and walks down the hallway to the bedroom, leaving his cello in a cracked pile of wood on the living room floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Monroe, he's still too blinded by grief to accept what's really happening :/ It'll get better soon though, I promise! Hope you all liked it! :D


	3. Home Invasion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick is now certain he's not alone. He mentally curses himself, realizing for the first time that he'd left his gun on the coffee table in the living room. It's only a few feet from the kitchen to the next room but that few feet seems like miles right now. He gauges the distance in his head, tries to determine how fast he can get to his gun even as he sees the shadows in the living room shift a bit to confirm his suspicions. Someone is in his house and he's standing there without his weapon. Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thanks so much for reading! I hope you all enjoy it! :D

The house is quiet and dark by the time Nick gets home, the living room lit by a single lamp by the door. He steps inside, closing the door behind him with a resounding thud that echoes through the empty living room. For a minute he just stands there, his shoulder pressed against the door and his eyes traveling around the darkened room, taking in the long, deep shadows that fill the corners and the thinner, lighter ones that linger near the edges of the lamp's glow. The living room is cold, the air stale, and it sits on top of him like an invisible weight. He lets out a slow sigh, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the door.

He's tired, bone-weary and stretched far too thin like a piece of cotton on a loom. The days seemed endless, the weeks longer, and it feels like wading through freshly poured concrete just to make it through the day. He'd never been one for depression, not since his parents died, but that's exactly what it feels like now. His entire body aches from the mental and physical strain he's put on himself and there's no changing it anytime soon. He's never felt more worn in his entire life; not when he was training at the police academy, not when he was pulling three and four day stakeouts, hell, not even when he discovered he was a Grimm. Right now he just feels drained, like his very life force is being siphoned out of him. Renard had urged him to take a few days off but he politely refused; the last thing he needed was more time alone.

He drops his keys onto the table next to the door with a loud thunk, wincing just a bit at the exaggerated volume of the impact. It sounds so loud in the house now that it's empty; he'd never realized that until now. Juliette had moved out almost a month and a half earlier and the house was still yawning and gaping with her absence. There's still evidence of her decorating skills all over the place: paintings on the walls, a hand-painted coat rack, the rug that leads down the hall to the bedrooms. Nick shakes his head and closes his eyes; he can't think about that right now…it's all too much to bear.

He pushes himself off the door and walks into the kitchen, his footsteps slow and forced. He flips a switch as he passes and the light over the sink flickers to life. The kitchen looks spotless, the countertops clean and the sink empty of dirty dishes. It's been that way since Juliette left because Nick honestly can't bring himself to cook in the kitchen without thinking about her and that hurts enough to take his breath away. He walks over to the refrigerator and grabs a beer, absently noticing that the milk is several days past the expiration date and there's a weird blue fungus beginning to grow on the English muffins in the corner. He sighs and closes the door; he'll deal with it later.

He wanders over to the table and sits down heavily in the nearest chair, popping the cap off the bottle and tossing it into the trashcan a few feet away. It makes a tiny metallic clink as it bounces off the wall and tumbles into the bin; it sounds like a car being crushed in a compactor to Nick. His personal cell phone is sitting on the table across from him, flashing green every few second indicating he has a new message. Nick stares at it for several seconds, working up the will and energy to reach across the table and grab the phone. He finally picks it up and opens the home screen, revealing he has both a missed call and a new message. The number isn't local, it isn't even from this state, but Nick knows who it is immediately. He takes a deep, somewhat shaky breath, and presses play.

"Nick?" The minute he hears her voice, he nearly wants to cry. It's a very heroic fight to control the sting of tears that prickle behind his eyes. "Nick, it's Juliette. I…I just wanted to call and see how you were doing…I wanted to see if you were okay." Her voice hitches a bit on the other line and Nick feels his own breath catch in time with hers. "Nick, please take care of yourself, okay? For me? I just…" There's another pause and Juliette's voice cracks a bit when she's finally able to speak again. "I just want you to be okay…I miss you…" She sniffs on the message and Nick can't fight the tears that sting his eyes anymore. "Be careful, okay?" On that final note, the message ends and Nick is left with nothing but silence to fill the void.

He sighs shakily and pulls the phone away, looking down at the message screen and deleting the message. The phone chirps when it's done and Nick drops it back onto the kitchen table, letting his head fall into his hands and taking a few deep breaths.

God he misses Juliette…he misses her more than he stand and the pain is deep and aching and raw. Breaking up with her was the hardest thing he's ever had to do and he regrets it every waking moment. It was for her own safety though, he couldn't risk her getting hurt or killed by a creature trying to get to him. He'd never be able to forgive himself if something were to happen to her.

It had been bad enough when Oleg had been in their house, when he'd turned his attention to Juliette for that split second before she threw the boiling water on him. It had been even worse when she had been kidnapped by Ariel and used as a bargaining chip to draw Nick out. He had given her the option that night, the chance to leave, as much as it pained him to do it. She had stayed and for a while things had gotten back to the way they were. The final straw, the breaking point, had come about a month and a half ago when a Reaper had followed her to work and stalked her all the way home. It hadn't tried to hurt her but the message had been clear: they could and they would with no qualms about it. That was what had spurred Nick's decision.

Juliette didn't understand when he told her they should break things off and she had shaken her head in disbelief over and over as he tried to tell her it was for her own good. The tears in her eyes had almost been enough to sway Nick into taking it all back but he knew if she stayed with him, she would never be safe; she would always be targeted by someone or something trying to get to him.

She had begged him to tell her why, to make her understand, to explain it to her but he couldn't. The truth was he didn't want Juliette to understand, he didn't want her to know about all the crazy, horrible things he himself had only just begun accept. Hell, most of the time he still didn't understand some of the things he was up against or how his life had taken such a strange turn; his grip on reality and the real world was tethered by a spider's thread that dangled over a swirling abyss of insanity. Juliette didn't understand and Nick didn't want her too, it was just safer that way.

That logic didn't help though, it didn't make the pain any easier to deal with. He missed her every time he took a breath, every time he blinked, every minute of the day. He wished more than anything there was a way to keep her in his life without running the risk of her being in danger but he couldn't see one. Every avenue he thought of led to her either hurt or dead and it would all be because of him. He couldn't risk that, not now, not ever.

He sighs and takes a sip of the beer, wincing a bit as it burns down the back of his throat and travels down to his empty stomach. He'd lost some weight since the break up, ten, maybe fifteen pounds in the last two months and it was simply because he didn't have the appetite to eat anything. Hank and Wu had been hounding him relentlessly about eating and had even resorted to physically dragging him to get food when he was at work and watching like a hawk until he ate everything. It made him feel sick more than anything. Right after the break up, he'd nearly passed out at Monroe's kitchen table because he hadn't eaten in three days and the Blutbad had threatened to tie him to the chair and force feed him if it came down to it.

God…Monroe…Thinking about his reluctant Blutbad partner made the ache in his chest throb all over again. It had been a little over two weeks since Angelina's death and Nick still carries that with him like a two ton weight on his back. He had tried every avenue possible to avoid the inevitable; he'd tried talking her down, he'd fired a warning shot, he'd even winged her to prove he was serious. None of it helped; Angelina was driven by bloodlust and there was nothing the Grimm could do to stop her other than taking her down completely. He didn't want to have to do that, he didn't want it to come to that, but then she'd gone after one of the kids and Nick had taken the shot.

He hit her in the chest and he knew she was dead before she hit the ground. He'd been one of the best marksmen in his class and the shot he took was definitely a kill shot. It didn't stop him from barking orders to Hank to call an ambulance and rushing to her side. It didn't stop him from performing CPR for fifteen minutes until the paramedics got there and gently pulled him away telling him there was nothing they could do, that she was already dead. It didn't stop him from following the ambulance all the way to the hospital is a haze of disbelief hoping that something could be done. It was too late; Angelina was dead and it was his fault.

The newspaper had called him a hero, the media had depicted him as a protector of the innocent, a savior of the family attacked. Everyone had told him he did what he had to, that he'd saved the family and that he should be proud of that, but Nick didn't feel proud of himself; he felt disgusted. His stomach churned and roiled every time he thought about that night, every time he thought about the expression on Monroe's face when he'd gone over to talk to him.

The Blutbad was understandable angry, Nick had no doubt he would be, but it felt unfair that Monroe was taking Angelina's side over his. All he wanted to do was apologize, tell him how hard he tried to stop her, to save her, and how taking that shot had been like a punch in the gut. He wanted Monroe to see that he didn't have any other choice, that kids were involved and that Angelina was going to slaughter the entire family indiscriminately. Monroe didn't care though; all he saw when he looked at Nick was a murderer, the heartless, bloodthirsty Grimm his parents and grandparents had told him about when he was a child. When he looked at Nick he saw a monster. It hurt, cutting to the core in sharp, lacerating slices, but when he thought about it, Nick thought maybe he might be right. Maybe he was a monster after all…

The clock chimes above the sink indicating it's just now 8 o'clock. Nick sighs heavily and closes his eyes; he knows he's in for another long night. He starts to stand, beer in hand, and stops, glancing toward the living room. Everything is still and quiet, the house empty save for him, but there's a slight prickle along the back of his neck that tells him he may not be as alone as he thinks. He's instantly alert, doing a mental flashback to when he got home. The door had been locked, the windows shut, and everything had been exactly as it had when he'd left that morning. There's something off about the air now though, a shift in the stillness of the house, and Nick is certain he's not alone now. He mentally curses himself, realizing for the first time that he'd left his gun on the coffee table in the living room. It's only a few feet from the kitchen to the next room but that few feet seems like miles right now. He gauges the distance in his head, tries to determine how fast he can get to his gun even as he sees the shadows in the living room shift a bit to confirm his suspicions. Someone is in his house and he's standing there without his weapon. Shit.

He makes a mad dash for the living room, hoping the element of surprise is on his side for whoever is in there. It might have worked had there not been three of them.

Almost instantly, Nick is struck from behind and he stumbles into the edge of the couch, wheeling around to face his attacker. Three men are standing in his living room, all dark clothes and dark eyes. There facial features are oddly birdlike but it's nothing like the eagle-like expressions of Farley Holt; these men look like ravens. Their beaks are long and sharp and they have tiny, glassy black eyes that follow Nick around the room with predatory precision. Oh, and there's three of them. Nick is very outnumbered and upon a cursory glance he can see he's also divested of his weapon; it's not on the table and he has no idea where they hid it or if one of them plans to use it on him. Killed with his own gun? Great. This day just keeps getting better and better.

Before he can contemplate his rather ironic demise any further, one of the ravens lunges at him and Nick jumps back to avoid his talons. The other two attack in unison, surrounding and circling him like buzzards to carrion, and Nick isn't sure how he's going to get past them. The first raven takes a swipe at him and Nick manages to grab his arm, twisting hard until he hears and audible crack. The man cries out, high-pitched and screeching, and drops back, cradling his broken arm. The other two take his place, slashing and clawing at Nick in a frenzy of talons and beaks. He feels razor-sharp talons tear through his shirt, shredding his shoulder, his chest, his hip, and the warm sting of blood that accompanies each slash makes him sick to his stomach.

He staggers back away from them, grabbing the nearest thing he find, a heavy paperweight sitting on the edge of a bookshelf, and smashing it into one of the raven's face. There's a satisfying crunch as his nose break and the man grunts in pain, baring red, bloodstained teeth at Nick. Nick makes his move before the other can and tackles the raven to the ground, knocking him away from the other two in an attempt to put some distance between them. He still has the paperweight in his hand and he uses it to his advantage, catching the man in the side of the head and knocking him unconscious. His victory doesn't last long though as sharp, taloned fingers grab the back of his shirt and pull him away. The needle-like points tear through his shirt and pierce his skin, cutting deep and painful like a surgical blade.

Nick grits his teeth and tries to turn but something sharp and distinctly metal slices through his shirt and rips open his side. Blood gushes out and he gasps, doubling over and covering the wound with one hand. Blood is staining his fingers and jeans at an alarming rate and coupled with the other cuts and gashes he'd received, he's beginning to get dizzy from the amount of blood loss. He staggers, catching himself against the edge of the couch and trying to keep himself upright. His vision is swimming but he sees the unmistakable glint of a blade in the closest man's hand. He gives him a dark, oily smile and Nick feels a chill ripple down his back. This is it, this is how he's going to die…

The attack doesn't come from the front though, not from the raven with the knife. There's a sharp blow to the back of his head and Nick slumps forward heavily, catching his cheek against the corner of the coffee table with enough force to make him see stars. He's sprawled on the living room floor, bleeding, dizzy, and on the verge of losing consciousness. God, he hates being a Grimm…

The raven holding the knife says something to his partner, the one with the broken arm. His speech sounds screechy and pitched and it's like walking into a room full of parrots. He indicates the unconscious man on the floor across the room and the other one nods, casting a nasty glare at Nick and cradling his arm to his chest protectively. He disappears out of Nick's line of sight and the detective feels his vision begin to swim all over again.

The one still standing, the one with the knife, takes and step forward and crouches down in front of Nick, smiling that same oil slick smile. When he speaks, his voice is still pitchy and birdlike but Nick can understand the words and it chills him to the bone. "Time to meet your new owner, Grimm."

He smirks and stands, his foot coming down suddenly against Nick's temple and the world is an explosion of white before everything goes dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading guys! :D


	4. Missing in Action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nachtkrapp were not known for their kindness toward their victims and that knowledge is enough to make Monroe feel his stomach drop another four feet. Nick was hurt, Nick was bleeding profusely, and there's an unmistakable scent of Nachtkrapp in his house. This is not good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, so the Nacktkrapp is actually based on a German fairytale parents used to tell their children. If a child misbehaved or didn't do as they were told, the Nacktkrapp (giant crows) would steal them away and eat them. Hardcore, right? The Germans don't mess around with boogeymen ^.-

There's a knock on the door followed by a doorbell at roughly 9:30 that morning. The sudden interruption of silence causes Monroe to drop the tiny screw he was holding on the end of a screwdriver and it hits the ground with a very tiny click. He sighs irritably and glares back at the door. This had better be important; he's been working on this clock for over two hours now and he's almost done. He sighs again and stands, resolving to find the screw when he got back because as tiny as it was, it would probably take a few minutes to locate it even with his enhanced Blutbad vision. There's another knock and he grumbles low in his throat, walking to the door with deliberate slowness. If someone was knocking on his door this early in the morning, they could wait for him to answer it.

As he gets closer, he catches a familiar smell and it causes him to hesitate slightly. It smells like old coffee and ink, fast food and someone who hasn't showered nearly as often as they should. It's the unmistakable smell of a police officer; Nick used to smell like that when he would come over after a double shift or a stakeout. The thought of the younger man makes him bristle a bit but the intense flare of rage he'd felt toward him has subsided a bit over the past few weeks. He no longer wanted to rip his throat out but he certainly didn't want to see him. He wasn't ready for that just yet.

As he reaches for the door though, he realizes it's not Nick but someone different. This person smells similar to Nick but entirely different at the same time…it's confusing. Monroe frowns and opens the door.

Nick's partner is standing on his front porch, hands dug deep into his pockets and hovering on just this side of too much coffee; Monroe can smell a startling amount of caffeine on him. "Are you Monroe?" Hank asks when Monroe opens the door all the way, catching his eye with a look that tells him he's here on business.

"Yes?" Monroe answers a bit hesitantly because he knows from personal experience that having a cop show up on your doorstep (who's not a wide-eyed, baby Grimm) is never a good thing.

"I'm detective Hank Griffin, I'm Nick's partner." Seeing Monroe's nod of affirmation, he continues. "Would you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

Monroe hesitates for a just a second longer before nodding. Something is very wrong with this picture but he's not sure what yet. "Yeah. Yeah, come on in. I'll make us some tea." He steps to the side and allows Hank to walk into the hallway, following along behind him and closing the door with a soft whoosh. He leads Hank into the kitchen, apologizing absently for the eviscerated clock on the kitchen table, and walks over to the cabinet, pulling out his kettle. He settles himself on tea because Hank looks like he's about two cups of coffee away from a caffeine overdose and he's not willing to take that chance.

Hank takes a seat at the table and pulls a notepad out of his pocket, looking at Monroe expectantly. "You're friends with Nick, right?"

Monroe feels himself bristle again at the question but he forces himself to remain calm; no need to take his anger out on Hank. "I wouldn't say friends necessarily," he mutters and he's unable to keep the touch of bitterness out of his voice. "Nick came to see me about the wristwatch involved in that case you guys had a couple of months ago involving that escaped convict. He needed some advice and I gave it to him." He knows he sounds flippant and uninterested but he's honestly not sure how much Hank knows about his and Nick's relationship and he doesn't want to cross those boundaries until they're brought up.

"Has he come to see you recently? Asked you about anything?" Hank asks, jotting something down on his notepad with a casual glance up at Monroe.

Monroe shrugs and fills two cups with hot water, adding a tea bag into each cup. "No, I haven't seen him recently." It's not a complete lie but once again Monroe's not sure how much Hank knows so he keeps that to himself. "Why? Is there a problem with a case?"

Hank shakes his head slowly. "No, not a case. Nick has just been acting a bit off lately and we're trying to see if he may have mentioned anything to anyone."

"'Off' how?" Monroe asks before he can stop himself, his long-extinguished, deep-seated concern for the younger man rearing its ugly head.

"Just different. Not exactly normal for him, you know? It started after that home invasion a couple weeks ago."

Monroe grits his teeth to bite back the harsh bark of laughter that threatens to tear through his throat. Everyone was so worried about Nick being affected by the shooting? The thought was like the punch line in a tragic comedy. "Yeah, I read about that. Nick had to shoot someone, didn't he?" The question comes out like a verbal slap and Monroe has to physically rope in the growl that's building in his chest.

"Yeah, but he definitely didn't want to," Hank says with a sigh and a shake of his head, apparently oblivious to Monroe's snap. "I was there with him; I knew he didn't want to take that shot but when she went for one of the kids he didn't really have a choice."

Monroe feels a sick, heavy weight settle in his stomach at the revelation and he coughs a bit to clear his throat. He didn't know Angelina had gone after one of the kids in the house… "Yeah, I guess I can see how that might be affecting him."

"Anyway," Hank continues, glancing up from his notes. "I was wondering if you've had any contact with Nick in the past few days?"

Monroe shrugs, still feeling a bit like the wind had been knocked out of him. "No, like I said I haven't seen him in a few weeks now." He walks over and hands Hank the tea, frowning a bit as something else dawns on him. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, Nick didn't show up for work last night and we're just trying to narrow down all of our options before we do anything else."

There's something missing about that explanation, something Hank's not telling him, and it's putting Monroe on edge. Still, he's trying to come across as unconcerned, as nothing more than a casual acquaintance who knows Nick only from his work as a detective, so he shrugs loosely. "Are you sure he didn't just skip town for a few days? Go see his girlfriend or something like that?"

Hank shrugs and there's a dark expression that crosses his face. "Well, we're looking into that but if blood spatter and signs of a struggle are any indication of "skipping town" then I've been doing it wrong for years."

Monroe freezes, cold, sickening dread stabbing him in the pit of his stomach. "What?"

Hank frowns grimly, seeming to realize he just said something he probably shouldn't have, but now that it's out in the open he can't take it back. "We think Nick's been kidnapped."

And there it is, all presented out on the table and open like one of the case files Nick used to bring over all the time. Nick was missing. Nick might have been kidnapped. There was blood so that meant Nick was probably hurt. All these thoughts swirl through Monroe's head with enough force to make him dizzy and he feels like he can't breathe for a minute. Sure, he'd been pissed at Nick, absolutely furious with him in fact, but that didn't mean he wanted anything to happen to him.

He coughs, clearing his throat a bit and trying to get past the lump that's suddenly formed right beneath his Adam's apple. "Do you have any suspects in mind?"

Hank shakes his head slowly, resigned, and lets out a heavy sigh. "No, we're combing his house for clues right now but we're not coming up with a lot. No fingerprints, no clothing fibers, no witnesses. We did find some blood in the house that didn't belong to Nick and we're sending it to the lab to get tested but that could take a couple of days depending on the clarity of the DNA."

Hank is still talking, rambling on about police procedure and protocol, but Monroe barely hears him. There's a rush of blood through his ears and he feels like he could lose his balance if he wasn't leaning against the kitchen counter right now. Nick is gone…this is not good. Being a detective already put him on the shit list for several of Portland's ill reputed citizens but tie in the fact that Nick is a Grimm and that list suddenly doubles, if not triples. There are a lot of people out there, human and creature alike, who want nothing more than Nick's head on a plate and he doesn't even want to think about the others that would keep him alive for other nefarious purposes.

The expression on Hank's face tells him more than the other man is saying: with little evidence and a cold, 24-hour window with no contact from Nick, the case is not looking good. They don't know if Nick is dead or alive and they're starting to lose hope for the latter. Even if he is still alive, he's injured and they don't know how severely; in the hours or days it might take to find him it might already be too late. Currently, Nick's fate is like a loaded die and not a single roll is going to land him on the winning side.

Hank stands after a minute, handing him a card and asking him to call if he has any information that could be useful to their case. Monroe takes the card with a slight nod and follows Hank to the door. Hank thanks him for the tea and steps off the front porch, walking out to his car and sliding in behind the steering wheel. Monroe watches wordlessly as he pulls away, lingering by the door for a few minutes until Hank's car disappears around the corner.

Hank didn't know about Nick's Grimm lineage or the fact that half of Portland knew of his existence and that automatically put him at a disadvantage. There was a very good chance the person who took Nick wasn't human at all but one of the many creatures who had been targeting him over the past few months. There's only one way to be sure though: he needs to go to Nick's house and check it out for himself.

Tea cold, clock completely forgotten, Monroe grabs his car keys from the kitchen and walks outside into the cold, windy morning. "Idiot Grimm," he mutters, sliding in behind the steering wheel and cranking the engine. The car sputters to life and he pulls out of the driveway, turning left on the main street and driving in the direction of Nick's house.

**OOOOO**

He parks his car a few houses down from Nick's seeing as how there are currently two squad cars parked outside of the detective's home. He's seen enough cop shows to know that they're staking out Nick's house in case his attackers come back for any reason but that makes the job of sneaking in infinitely more difficult. It's not impossible but he knows these cops are on full alert for anything suspicious so he's going to have to be particularly careful not to get caught as he sneaks past them.

He steps out of his car and locks it, walking along the sidewalks and fences that line the neighborhood. When he sees an opening, he ducks off the main sidewalk and slips into the yard that runs along the side of Nick's house. The fence is easy enough to jump and he lands quietly in the back yard, pausing for a minute to catch his breath and make sure the coast is clear. When he doesn't hear the yelp of sirens or feel a gun pressed to the back of his head indicating he's been caught, he stands slowly and makes his way over to the back door. Nick had given him a spare key months ago and he digs it out of his pocket, wiggling it into the lock and turning it slowly and quietly. He opens the door with the hem of his shirt and steps inside, closing it behind him softly.

The house is empty but there's a heavy presence like it hadn't been for long. Monroe can smell blood in the air and it makes him antsy. The wolf rumbles low in his chest but he pushes it away and takes a few more steps into the house. The smell of blood gets stronger as he gets closer to the living room and he can feel the wolf rumbling a bit more aggressively now. There's another smell mixing in with the scent of blood, something no one lacking enhanced senses would pick up on. It's a heavy smell, thick and solid like a cloud hanging in the living room. It smells like oil and feathers, a moldy down pillow that's been left out by the side of the road to absorb the various filth and grime that collects in the gutters. Nachtkrapp…and more than one. He can smell them all over the living room and it sets his teeth on edge. Nachtkrapp were nasty creatures, scavengers who kidnapped children from their homes and took them back to their nests to devour them alive. And slowly. The thought makes Monroe shudder and he steps into the middle of the living room carefully.

The living room is a complete mess of broken furniture and yellow police tape. There's tiny number placards all over the floor and coffee table, indicating evidence found in different parts of the room. There are bloodstains everywhere. Monroe stares at the long crimson streak that smears across the bottom of the couch and lands in a large, dried pool next to the coffee table. There's speckles of it on the back of the couch, the edges of the bookshelf, the floor leading into the living room. It's literally everywhere and the shudder that trembles its way through Monroe feels like rats crawling up his spine.

It looks like Nick had gotten the absolute crap beaten out of him but it also looks like he didn't go down without a fight. There's another pool of blood a few feet away and just from the color Monroe can automatically tell that it doesn't belong to Nick. The other pool of blood is darker, more of a black/maroon than the reddish brown stains that mark the rest of the living room. Whatever bled in that spot wasn't human and Monroe feels something similar to a surge of pride that Nick had managed to get a few good blows in before he went down. He knows enough about Nachtkrapp to know that they fight dirty and if there was more than one of them here, it was likely that they had ambushed Nick completely before he managed to get to his weapon. From the looks of it though, Nick put up a hell of a fight and wasn't about to go quietly.

The amount of blood in the living room is worrying though. Almost all of it is Nick's and that means the extent of his injuries is unknown. Monroe looks back at the largest pool of blood, the one that streaks the couch and stains the rug beneath the coffee table. There's a lot of it, too much to be healthy, but it doesn't look like a lethal amount. Monroe feels just a very tiny portion of him relax at the thought but he knows it means little; just because Nick wasn't killed in the house doesn't mean he wasn't moved somewhere else to be killed there. Nachtkrapp were not known for their kindness toward their victims and that knowledge is enough to make Monroe feel his stomach drop another four feet. Nick was hurt, Nick was bleeding profusely, and there's an unmistakable scent of Nachtkrapp in his house. This is not good.

The wolf inside is rumbling dangerously and he can feel his fingernails sharpening into claws. No matter how mad he was at Nick, how mad he _had_ been, he didn't want anything to happen to him. True, he had loved Angelina and was still pretty pissed about her death, but Nick was one of the best and closest friends he'd ever had. He'd separated himself from his family, from the friends he'd had when he was younger, in an effort to reform himself. He'd gone into complete isolation, self-induced exile, and he had to admit that the "lone wolf" persona got old fast. Angelina didn't understand it and she had pressured him to change, to go back to who he used to be, to be a killer.

He didn't want that life, he'd done everything he could to get away from it, and she called him weak. Angelina wanted blood; she wanted ferocity and wild animal instincts. Monroe wanted to make clocks and drink coffee in his house without having to worry about tearing into anyone who walked by wearing a red jacket. Nick understood all that, he accepted it and he didn't ask questions. Nick knew he had a dark past, he knew there were skeletons in his closet (both metaphorically and literally), but he didn't pry. Nick accepted him just the way he was with no questions asked.

And Monroe had turned his back on him. He feels sick to his stomach, disgusted with himself as cold, hard realization kicks him in the ass like a Boeing jet. Nick had been just as torn up about Angelina's death as he was but he didn't want to see it, he didn't want to acknowledge the fact that Nick might have been right in his decision to take the shot. Jesus, she had gone after _kids_! Even at his worst, Monroe would _never_ have gone after a child; there were just some lines he refused to cross.

He sighs heavily, shaking his head at the floor. "I was an ass…" he mutters to no one in particular, his voice echoing in the empty living room.

He glances back at the blood spattering across the floors, staining the couch and the rug. He grits his teeth, fresh rage and indignation welling deep inside his chest. Someone had taken his Grimm and he was going to tear apart all of Portland if he had to in order to get him back.

**OOOOO**

Roddy is standing on his front porch when he gets back and he's not alone, Barry and Holly are there with him. The second he pulls into the driveway, they surround the car like a mob.

"Nick is gone!"

"Hank says he's been kidnapped!"

"We have to find him!"

Damn, word travels fast in the Grimm grapevine. There's a cacophony of voices coming from every direction as Monroe is bombarded by three very frantic teenagers. Roddy is standing next to his window, Barry is next to the hood, and Holly is on the other side with one hand gripping the handle like she's ready to rip it off the hinges. Judging by the panic in their voices, he wouldn't be surprised if she did tear the door off. He opens his own door and pushes it open carefully to avoid smacking Roddy in the chest with it. The Reinigen steps away and allows him to get out of the car but he stays close enough to leap back into the conversation the second Monroe is out of the car.

"Monroe, something happened to Nick," Roddy tells him the minute the door closes and immediately Barry and Holly are behind him nodding in affirmation.

"I know, guys," Monroe tells them, just to assure them he is aware of the current situation involving their missing Grimm. They really shouldn't be talking about this out in the open though…

"Well, come on man! We have to go find him!" Barry insists, looking out to the road like he's ready to start the search all by himself.

"Do you think it was a Reaper?" Roddy asks, his voice dropping an octave. Even though they usually only went after Grimms, Reapers were still in the boogeyman stories that parents told their children late at night.

"Nick is missing!" Holly asserts, slapping the palm of her hand on the hood of Monroe's car hard enough to dent it. Normally he would have been annoyed by that but given the circumstances (and the fact that Holly is still trying to gain control of her abilities) he lets it slide.

"I know, I know," Monroe tells them all again, glancing up to his house. "Come one, let's go inside and we can talk about this some more; you don't know who could be listening out here."

The kids all look around a bit conspiratorially like they're just waiting for someone to tumble out of the Hydrangea bushes with a tape recorder. Monroe walks up the steps to his front porch and Holly, Barry, and Roddy are all right on his heels, crowding him at the door and following him inside once the door is open. The second the door closes behind them, the questions start up again.

"Do they know who could have taken him?"

"Did you go over to his house?"

"Is Nick hurt?"

"Easy guys," Monroe placates, raising his hands calmly in an effort to soothe. If everyone tried to talk all at once, they'd never get anywhere. "How did you all find out about this?"

"Hank showed up at Holly's house asking her and her mom if they'd seen Nick recently," Roddy explains, glancing over to the female Blutbad sitting across the table from them.

"Hank said Nick is missing," Holly says, looking directly at Monroe like she needs another form of assurance that what she heard was correct. Monroe knew full well that Nick checked up on Holly every couple weeks to see how she was doing and make sure she was adjusting to domestic life alright. He'd made it his mission to look out for all the creatures he'd saved, particularly the younger ones, to change the views that most of them had on Grimms as a whole. Nick personally checked up on Holly, Barry, and Roddy and he even got into the habit of dropping in to see the Wesen every once in a while just to prove that he wasn't a heartless killing machine like the other Grimms before him. The very thing Monroe had accused him of being…

"So she called me and I called Barry," Roddy continues, shrugging slightly. "And we came over here." They're all crowded around the table, three sets of eyes locked on him and waiting for advice. Roddy viewed him as a mentor, Holly as an Alpha, and he wasn't really sure what Barry saw him as but considering he hadn't been challenged to a Jagerbar cage match yet, he's pretty sure he's at least in the friend zone in that regard. He knows Nick was the one who persuaded the judge to give Barry and his friends probation rather than actual jail time so Barry holds Nick's well being to heart just like the other two.

"So what do we do?" Barry asks finally, breaking the silence in the room. It's the question all of them want to ask, the reason they're all here. They had come to him for advice, for direction. They had come to him because now that Nick's life was in danger, they needed a plan to get him back in one piece. With Nick gone, Monroe was their leader and they needed his permission to do anything else.

Monroe looks at all of them, taking in their young faces, their eager expressions, and their determination. He didn't have the heart to tell them that Nachtkrapp had been responsible for Nick's disappearance, that the amount of blood he found in Nick's house sent a stab of alarm into the pit of his stomach every time he thought about it. He didn't want to tell them that if Nick wasn't dead already, if they didn't find him soon he would be. He couldn't tell them any of that because he didn't want to hear it himself. They had to find Nick, _alive_ , no matter what the cost. Failure was absolutely not an option.

"We get him back," Monroe says finally and it feels like a flood of tension leaves the room at his words. "We find him and we bring him back home. That's what we're going to do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession time: I am absolutely in LOVE with the idea of Nick's "kids" coming to his rescue.


	5. Location, Location, Location

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The text in the box reads: "Limited tickets available to see a REAL LIVE GRIMM. Buy your tickets now to come see this once in a lifetime experience!"
> 
> Monroe reads and re-reads the page about three times before it finally sinks in. "They have Nick locked away in some freak show?" he demands, unable to keep the growl out of his voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meh, there's not too much action in this chapter so I apologize in advance for that. It will pick up in the next chapter though! :D Hope you all like it!

Roddy, Barry, and Holly are waiting on the front porch the next morning shortly after Monroe comes downstairs. He can make out their silhouettes through the stained glass door and vaguely wonders how long they've been standing there waiting for him. He opens the door and ushers them inside, glancing out at the street out of habit before closing the door and locking it behind them. He knew first hand how some of the other Grimm creatures felt about his association with Nick (a brutal beat down at the hands of the Reapers sank that idea in pretty quick) and he didn't want to get the kids involved anymore than he had to in case someone was watching. He knew they wanted to help Nick but until they found their wayward detective, it was his job to keep everyone safe.

It's very shortly after 8:20 in the morning but all three teenagers look like they've been up for hours. They'd promised not to do anything the night before and start searching with Monroe the next morning but Monroe knows it wasn't a mutual decision. Holly and Barry have this wild animal look in their eyes and it looks like the only thing that's keeping them at the table and not running for the door is the fact that they have no idea where to even start searching. Roddy is looking at Monroe with calculated scrutiny the way he does a new sheet of music like he's trying to figure out every possible secret it could be hiding. They're all waiting for Monroe's advice, his approval, and he'd be more than happy to give it to them if he had even the slightest idea of what to do first.

He'd spent the better part of the night combing through every old storybook he had regarding Nachtkrapp while trying to determine where they might have taken Nick. In the few stories he'd heard growing up, he knew that Nachtkrapp acted more as hired muscle than on their own. It wasn't uncommon to see them in the ranks of gang leaders and mob bosses because their work was quick, efficient, and most of all unseen. That didn't narrow down a location though and that was the main thing he'd been looking for.

He knew he stood a better chance of finding some answers by visiting Marie's trailer but Nick was the only one who had a key and to be honest it kind of freaked him out to be in the trailer by himself. It was like walking into a serial killer's pantry of horrors. His grandmother had told him enough stories about all the terrible, mutilating weapons Grimms tended to carry around on a daily basis and he'd only just scratched the surface of the crazy shit Marie had in the few times he'd been in the trailer with Nick. The idea makes him shudder; the thought that Nick was related to her, to a woman as well known and deadly as Marie Kessler, and yet he could be so entirely different. Nick was nothing like his aunt and Monroe had accused him of being worse than her…

He shakes his head to pull himself out of his darker thoughts and looks back at the teens surrounding his table. Holly is absently chewing on her thumb nail, knee bouncing like she's ready to come apart at the seams, Barry is looking out the window at the backyard next to them, and Roddy is still staring at him like he's waiting for instructions from a drill sergeant. Monroe has no idea where to send them; he knows splitting them up will cover more territory and probably narrow down a location faster but he's not too comfortable with the idea of them being alone.

It's not that he thinks they can't handle themselves, quite the contrary in fact. He just knows that young creatures, especially predators, are usually much more prone to violence than their adult counterparts. Holly and Barry, though civil enough right now, would probably fall back on their more animal instincts if they found a lead and there wouldn't be much holding them back. Monroe's biggest concern is that they'll find someone with information on Nick and accidentally kill them before the information can be given. Still, they don't exactly have the luxury of time and every second they waste puts them another minute away from finding Nick. He sighs and looks back at the kids, coming to a decision.

"Okay, here's what we're going to do. Barry, I want you and Holly to take the woods and see if you can pick up a scent there. If you find something call me immediately. Do _not_ try to handle it yourselves, understand?" He looks at them carefully, putting as much Alpha wolf power into his voice as he can without changing completely. Holly nods so quickly her hair bounces and Barry gives him a single nod to indicate he understands.

"Good," Monroe says before turning his attention to Roddy. "I want you to search around the streets a bit, use your rats if you have to, but just stay under the radar. We don't know where Nick is or what whoever took him wants him for so we want to find him as quickly as we can without drawing unnecessary attention to ourselves, got it?" Roddy nods and Holly follows suit.

"Where are you going?" Barry asks and both Roddy and Holly are immediately looking back at Monroe, asking the same question with their eyes.

Monroe sighs and figures it's time to give them a straight answer. "I know what took Nick from his house but I don't know where they took him afterwards." The kids are looking at him like he holds the fountain of knowledge in his hands and he has no choice but to continue. "Nick was taken by Nachtkrapp."

Roddy immediately bristles and Barry growls low in his throat. Holly's eyes flash darkly and there's a hint of red in them. "Filthy birds," she snarls and her teeth are just a little bit sharper than they were previously.

"Easy guys," Monroe says, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. "We'll find Nick first and we'll deal with the Nachtkrapp later. I'm going to check out a few places around town that are not exactly kid friendly which is why I don't want any of you coming with me. The people I'm going to see are dangerous and I want you all to stay as far away from them as possible, alright?"

None of the kids look very happy about Monroe's decision but they know better than to question him. They all want the same thing: to find Nick. If that means delving into some less than respectable places during their search then they're all willing to take that risk.

"Good. Everyone knows what we're doing right?" At the wave of nods, Monroe continues. "Okay, if you find anything, anything at all, I want you to call me immediately. Don't try to handle it yourselves," he emphasized again with a look at Barry and Holly. "And don't try to get into anything you can't get out of." He glances at Roddy as he says this before pushing away from the table. "We will find Nick but we need to do this correctly, understand? If we don't then he's going to be even worse off than before."

That dark bit of knowledge sinks in pretty quickly and the teenagers nod somberly. After their acknowledgement, they all stand and follow Monroe to the door, stepping out into the cold morning and walking down the sidewalk. Once they reach the mailbox, Holly and Barry walk across the street and disappear into the trees. Roddy turns right and makes his way back toward town, hands dug deep in his pockets and shoulders squared in determination. Monroe watches them all go before pulling the keys out of his pocket and walking over to his car. He was going to find Nick if he had to search every drug den and gang hideout in Portland.

**OOOOO**

Monroe gets the call shortly after 2 o'clock and he nearly flinches as his cell phone vibrates incessantly against his hip. He's standing behind a barber shop in downtown Portland, or at least it's painted to look like a barber shop. The shop doubles as a store front and a meeting place for a well known criminal organization that trolls the back alleys of the city. They're well known throughout the city though Monroe is pretty sure not many people know the gang is composed of entirely non-human members. He'd met the boss once and it had been one of the most awkward and terrifying moments of his life. The man had come to him to fix a clock for his mother and had paid Monroe very well to keep his silence. There was no issue there, Monroe is pretty sure no one would believe him even if he did say anything. One of the most well known crime bosses in the city coming to his house to get an antique clock fixed for his mother? Yeah, that's believable.

The man, Lorenzo, had been pleased with his work and had very calmly told Monroe before he left that if he ever needed anything or anyone "taken care of", to come find him at the Barber Shop downtown and that his problem would be resolved very quickly. He'd also made it very clear that now that he knew where Monroe lived, it wouldn't be hard to find him again. The message had been clear: don't fuck up and we won't have a problem. Monroe had gone down the hardware store very shortly after Lorenzo left and bought two more deadbolts for his front door.

He needed information now though and Lorenzo was one of the only ones he knew that might have it. He'd met with him in the back room of the Barber Shop, behind a heavy metal door that had an "Employees Only" sign bolted to it. Lorenzo was reclined in a high back leather chair that looked like it cost more than Monroe's entire house and he smiled in a very reptilian way when Monroe sat down across from him. Monroe isn't entirely sure what he is, a chameleon or an iguana, he can't decide. All he knows is that appearances can be deceiving and Lorenzo could make the order to have him killed before he could blink.

Their conversation is amicable enough and Lorenzo answers Monroe's questions without so much as a raised eyebrow. Monroe is careful to leave Nick's name out of the conversation because he's pretty sure that, Grimm or not, dropping the name Nick Burkhardt in front of a crime boss wouldn't be the best idea. He asks for information on the Nachtkrapp and if he knows of any that might be in the area, any that might have done a job recently.

Lorenzo denies any knowledge of the Nachtkrapp and Monroe believes him partially because he sounds like he's genuinely telling the truth and partially because he's a bit terrified of him. Lorenzo makes it clear that he doesn't associate with Nachtkrapp unless he has to and he calls them a particularly nasty name that makes Monroe's eyes widen. If he'd ever used that kind of language growing up, his mother wouldn't have just washed his mouth out with soap, she might have straight up disowned him. He tries to ask for more information but their meeting is immediately cut short when a wiry man with a face like a hyena comes in and makes some kind of gesture that only Lorenzo can understand. The boss stands and apologizes to Monroe for the interruption, leading him to the door and telling him he has some other business he needs to attend to. Monroe doesn't argue and lets himself be led out to the alley behind the building before the door slams and locks behind him.

He stands motionless for a few minutes, weighing the pros and cons of trying to go back inside and weasel some more information out of Lorenzo or keeping his head neatly on his shoulders. He needs to find Nick, he needs to get some kind of lead other than the Nachtkrapp, and right now he's back to square one. He's just about to whirl around and go bang on the door again when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He feels his heart double time, both out of surprise and apprehension. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, seeing Roddy's number scroll across the screen. He accepts the calls and brings the phone up to his ear. "Hello?"

"Monroe, hey. I think I found something…" There's a hesitation in Roddy's voice that makes Monroe uncomfortable. He wants to demand answers from him then and there but he knows here is not the place to do it. He sighs softly and forces himself to calm down.

"Okay, where are you?"

"I'm heading back to your place. I've already called Barry and Holly so we should all get there at the same time." Monroe can hear the pass of traffic as Roddy walks and he knows he can't be too far away from the main part of the city. "I'll be there in about fifteen minutes."

"Okay, be careful and I'll see you there." Monroe hangs up the phone and takes one last look at the Barber Shop before walking across the street to his car.

**OOOOO**

Roddy is standing on the porch when Monroe pulls up, bouncing on the balls of his feet and looking like he's ready to burst if he doesn't talk to someone in the next five minutes. Monroe is walking up to the porch just as Barry and Holly appear a few feet up the sidewalk, walking quickly to catch up to them. Once everyone had made it back to the house, Monroe opens the door and lets them all inside.

"What did you find?" Barry asks once they're all back in the kitchen, looking at Roddy intently. Holly is right beside him, dark eyes flicking up and down like she's looking for anything he might be hiding.

Roddy reaches into his pocket and pulls out a lime green flyer, handing it to Monroe first and watching as Barry and Holly hover near his elbow to read it. The black writing is painfully bold against the bright green background and it displays a collection of "Novelties, Oddities, and Commodities All in One Location!" Monroe frowns and reads it again, eyes scanning up and down the page. "What is this?"

"It's a flyer for a traveling circus," Roddy answers slowly, weighing his words like they're too heavy to speak. "It's completely non-human and designed for non-humans; my dad took me once when I was about five."

"How does this help us find Nick?" Barry asks, glancing over the page again like he's looking for something he's missing.

Roddy looks distinctly uncomfortably now and he nods toward the flyer. "Flip it over."

Monroe does as he's told and flips the flyer over, reading across the back of the page. It's an advertisement for an onsite side show, a house of horrors in a way for the younger kids that come to the circus. There's a large, bolded box at the bottom of the page that causes Monroe's eyes to widen. The text in the box reads: _"Limited tickets available to see a REAL LIVE GRIMM. Buy your tickets now to come see this once in a lifetime experience!"_

Monroe reads and re-reads the page about three times before it finally sinks in. "They have Nick locked away in some freak show?" he demands, unable to keep the growl out of his voice.

Roddy nods hesitantly, trying to explain the situation without making it worse. "It's the best lead we have and that circus isn't very far away, it's right outside of Seattle. Nick has only been missing for a few days so I think there's a good chance he's being held there."

"But why would they put Nick in a side show?" Barry asks, frowning at the page darkly. "Why wouldn't they try to kill him like any normal creature?" Holly snaps at him, baring her teeth at the suggestion, and Barry holds his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Hey, it was just a question. You know I'm right," he says, glancing between Holly and Roddy and finally Monroe. "Most Grimms aren't known for the friends they make in the creature world and yeah, Nick may be the exception but that doesn't mean everyone else knows that. My mom used to tell me that the only good Grimm was a dead Grimm and I'm pretty sure she wasn't the only one who believed it."

"Dude, think about it," Roddy says, looking back at the green flyer hovering between them. "Catching a Grimm, a real, living Grimm, is like finding a unicorn or a leprechaun wandering in your backyard. Most people have only heard stories of Grimms, they've never actually seen one in person, so whoever is holding Nick captive is using him to clean out the pockets of whoever is curious enough to come by to see him."

Roddy snatches the flyer away and points to a line of text right below the bolded box. "The tickets for the side show alone run $15 a piece and I could probably lay money on the fact that everyone who buys one is getting it to go see the Grimm, or in our case Nick. Right now, Nick is more valuable to them alive than dead."

"Okay, so let's assume you're right about this and Nick is locked away in some cage at a freak show," Barry says, looking between the flyer and Roddy. "How are we supposed to get him out?"

Roddy shrugs a bit, looking at Monroe helplessly. "I haven't really figured that part out yet."

"Nick is in a cage?" Holly asks softly, her expression somewhere between horror and fury. She clenches her fist, sharp nails digging holes into her palms.

Monroe places a hand on her shoulder to prevent her from hurting herself or losing her shit completely in the kitchen. "I'm sure he's fine, Holly," he tells her as calmly as he can but he can't escape the sick, sinking feeling in his stomach. The idea of Nick locked up in a cage does all kinds of horrible things to the wolf inside and it's raging against the mental images that keep popping up in his head. _If Nick was locked up…if Nick was injured and locked up in a cage…_ He shakes his head and looks back at Roddy. "Where did you find that?" He asks, nodding to the flyer in the teen's hand.

"I found it on my door," Roddy answers with a small shrug. "A friend of mine leaves stuff like this on my door all the time in case I ever decide to bring _Retchid Kat_ back and need a venue to play for." At the looks from the others, he elaborates. "He doesn't know about Nick or anything. I think he was just leaving the flyer in case I decided to go."

"Wow, usually the only flyers I get on my door are for Chinese take out," Barry mumbles, taking the flyer back and reading the directions at the bottom of the page. He flips it over once and hands it back to Roddy. "It is the best lead we have," he admits, looking at Monroe for confirmation. Holly is looking at him as well and Roddy's eyes haven't left him in almost a minute. They all want his approval, his confirmation that this is the right place to start and Monroe has to admit that he doesn't have anything better to go on. If Nick is locked away in a cage somewhere, being held and put on display like an animal, then they need to find him and bring him home before it's too late.

Monroe takes the flyer from Roddy's hand and folds it, tucking it into his pocket. "Looks like we're going to the circus."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I promise more details about Nick's abduction in the next chapter, I just needed to set the stage for it in this one ^.-


	6. Three Ring Circus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monroe walks over to the ticket booth, the kids right behind him, and he can't ignore the sinking feeling he feels in the pit of his stomach. Nick was in there, chained up and locked away like an animal, and he was buying tickets to see him. Nothing about this situation sat well with him...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit more action in this chapter! Hope everyone likes it!

The "circus" turns out to be a series of warehouses in a complex on the outskirts of Seattle. Monroe can make out at least three but he wouldn't be surprised if there were more farther back into the lot. The parking lot is completely full by the time they get there and the sun is just beginning to set off in the distance. It had been a long drive but no one complained about the distance, they were all focused on one thing: _find Nick._ Barry had borrowed his father's truck seeing as how Monroe's yellow Volkswagen wasn't necessarily made to accommodate him, three Wesen teenagers, and an injured Grimm. Frank Rabe had been more than willing to lend the truck considering Nick was the one who had made sure that Barry stayed out of jail and had told them to take whatever they needed in order to find him.

The truck is enormous, somewhere between a Hummer and a tank, and it fits the four of them easily with plenty of room to spare. Barry is driving, Monroe sitting across from him in the front seat, and Holly and Roddy are in the back. Holly has her head sticking out the window, sniffing at the air as they pass through the numerous rows of cars in search of a parking spot and Roddy is watching the people filing into the open doors of the warehouse carefully like he's keeping an eye out for any sign of Nick. Barry finally manages to find a parking spot at the very back of the lot and it's only by the grace of God that the big truck fits into it at all; the sides are dangerously close to the cars next to it and if it had been any closer, Monroe is pretty sure he would have had to climb out through the back window in order to get out at all.

Barry had just barely thrown the truck into park when Holly hops out of the back and starts walking toward the warehouse, her long hair blowing back behind her. "Holly!" Roddy calls after her, wrestling with his seatbelt in an attempt to go after her.

Monroe sees her and jumps out in pursuit, catching up to her easily and grabbing her wrist. "Holly, wait."

"Monroe, let's go," the younger Blutbad insists, tugging against his hold toward the door. She wants to find Nick and she wants to find him _now_. Pack mentality runs deep for most Blutbads and Holly was no exception. From day one she'd accepted Monroe as her Alpha but she'd also accepted Nick as part of her "pack" as well. The acceptance into a pack was usually only reserved for family and other Blutbads so it was a big deal that she'd started viewing Nick, a human and a Grimm, as part of hers.

Now someone had hurt him, taken him away, and her pack was broken. Holly is just as anxious to find him as the others but for different reasons: Nick was part of her stability in the urban world after being taken from the forest. Nick, along with Monroe and her mother, had been the few constants she had in this strange new world and losing Nick shook the very foundations she'd been laying down over the past few months.

"Nick is inside, we have to help." She's tugging more insistently now, like a puppy with a chew toy, and Monroe literally has to dig his feet into the ground to keep her from dragging him. Damn, she's strong…

"I know, I know, and we're going but you can't go in alone. We need to do this together, okay?" Holly looks ready to protest but Monroe cuts her off with a sharp look. "Holly, I'm serious. We do this together or not at all, got it?" The Alpha wolf inside comes out and it's like he's asking for a challenge he knows Holly won't accept. He's been the leader this far and it needs to stay that way until they find Nick.

Holly sighs heavily and nods. "Okay," she relents, shoulders slumping a little like a chastised puppy. It's cute in a way and Monroe can understand where she's coming from because it's everything he can do not to burst in through the front doors and threaten a very slow, painful death to everyone involved in Nick's abduction. He doesn't though, he has to keep a level head if they hope to find him and get him out alive.

Barry and Roddy are next to them a second later, a look of determination on both of their faces. Monroe feels it's safe to release Holly's arm without her running off and looks at the other two, nodding in affirmation: they're here now and they're not leaving until they find Nick. Silent agreement passes throughout the group and they all begin their trek across the parking lot toward the doors of the main warehouse.

A burly man with ape-like features stops them at the door and makes them pay for wristbands in order to get into the main showroom. He looks them up and down, watching wordlessly as Monroe hands him a few bills from his wallet. The wristbands are bright orange and garish but they put them on without complaint and walk into the warehouse, pausing at the front door to take in the sheer size of it.

The warehouse is easily the size of a city block and filled wall to wall with booths and kiosks selling everything from food to weapons. There's a few stages set up along the walls where demonstrations are being held and there's a clang of metal on metal from a roped off arena toward the back of the warehouse. There are people everywhere, milling around through the various tables and booths and examining the products available. Not a single one of them are human.

Monroe is momentarily overcome by sensory overload and the kids look like they feel about the same. For a minute, no one moves, they just stand and stare at the vast expanse of merchandise and merchants in front of them. When Monroe can finally collect his thoughts into some kind of rational order, he turns to the kids and keeps his voice as low as he can over the roar of noise all around them. "Okay, you guys go right, I'll go left, and we'll meet in the back. See if you can find out where they're holding the sideshow and what time it opens."

The teens nod in unison and break away from the door, walking off in the direction of one of the rows of tables. Monroe watches them go, a bit hesitant to turn them loose on their own but knowing it will help them locate Nick faster. He turns to the left, passing a booth selling Mermaid tears and dragon scales, and begins combing his way through the merchants lining the walls.

Roddy manages to snag another lime green flyer from one of the tables they pass and looks over it one more time, hoping to narrow down their location in some way. It's no help and he scowls in disgust, dropping it to the ground and following after Barry and Holly. Holly is walking like she's on a mission, head held high and sniffing the air with each step she takes. It's hard to smell anything past the mingling scents of food, smoke, and body odor coming off of every creature they pass. Barry is trailing along behind her, doubling his steps to keep up with her, and Roddy is nearly having to run to catch up. For being so small, Holly is fast and it's everything they can do to keep up with her.

They make an entire circle, cutting through kiosks and pop up tents, and before they realize it, they're back at the front. Holly lets out a disgruntled sigh and starts walking again, Barry and Roddy right behind her. Barry finally reaches out and catches Holly by the back of the shirt to keep her from getting too far ahead and reaches out with his other hand, snagging Roddy's wrist and dragging him along behind him. Normally, Roddy would probably make a snaky comment about being dragged around like a dog on a leash but he's too concerned with trying not to be eaten at the moment that he doesn't really think about it.

The cat creature had been following them for a few minutes now, her eyes dark and glowing as she locked onto him. She looks like a panther, all sleek, dark hair and long, sharp claws and worst of all she looks hungry. She's eyeing Roddy like he's nothing more than a cat toy, dangling just in front of her and out of her reach. She was a cat, he was a rat, it made sense that she'd be chasing him but he'd kind of hoped that, given the circumstances of them being in a very crowded, public place, she'd back off and leave him alone. No dice and she was getting closer. They turn a corner and the woman hooks her claws in the back of Roddy's hoodie causing him to stumble in surprise. Barry turns to see what happened and immediately catches eyes with the cat creature.

There's a low, inhuman growl building deep in his throat and his face shifts just a bit under the florescent lights. His hand is still wrapped around Roddy's wrist and he jerks the smaller teen forward away from her, taking a step in front of him and putting himself between Roddy and the cat creature. She hisses angrily, sharp teeth gleaming in her mouth, and for a minute it looks like she's not going to back down from the fight. She takes a step forward, hissing menacingly.

Holly is in her face suddenly, eyes crimson and blazing and baring her teeth like a rabid dog. All 5'3 of Holly is backing the woman into a corner, growling at her furiously like a mother wolf protecting her pups and she doesn't look ready to back down either. The woman hisses once more but she knows better than to take on a Blutbad, teenage girl or not. Cats chase rats and dogs chase cats; Holly would win this showdown and there was no contest. The woman eyes Roddy once again briefly and Holly takes another step forward, clawed fingers clenched at her sides. The woman finally realizes this is a losing battle and slinks off, casting a dirty look over her shoulder at Holly and Barry who's still standing in front of Roddy like a Jagerbar wall.

Once she's out of sight, Holly turns back to them, facial features completely back to normal, and smiles sheepishly. "Come on, Roddy. Let's go." She starts walking again, slower this time, and Barry puts Roddy in the middle, walking behind him and glancing over his shoulder occasionally to make sure the woman doesn't come in for another attack.

Monroe is just rounding the corner of the last row of booths and he catches sight of them. The only thing he'd been able to figure out was that the side show was in a smaller warehouse toward the back of the parking lot. He notices Roddy's slightly shaken expression as the others approach and frowns. "What happened?"

"Cat," Holly says simply, coming to a stop next to Monroe. The older Blutbad frowns again and looks at Roddy, trying to determine if he's hurt or not.

Roddy shakes his head quickly, flushing a bit under the scrutiny. "I'm fine," he mutters quietly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie in a nervous, self-conscious sort of way. "Barry and Holly took care of it."

"Yeah, Holly went straight Cujo on her ass," Barry teases and Holly blushes though he's pretty sure she doesn't understand the reference.

Monroe sighs and vows to ask for the full story later. "Okay, I think I found the side show. This way." He leads them out the back door of the main showroom into the parking lot that opens out behind it. There are more cars in the back but not nearly as many as there are in the front. A portable metal gate has been set up halfway across the parking lot dividing it in half from the available parking spots to the open grounds in front of the second warehouse. The other half of the parking lot is filled with carnival games and rides that look like they could they could fall apart if a single bolt came loose. People are milling around the games and rides with detached fascination but the real draw seems to be coming from the warehouse in the back of the parking lot. There's already a crowd forming around the closed doors and there are two men standing in front of the warehouse waiting to take tickets once the doors open. A small booth is set up to the side selling tickets and it's pretty evident that they've found the place they were looking for.

Monroe walks over to the ticket booth, the kids right behind him, and he can't ignore the sinking feeling he feels in the pit of his stomach. Nick was in there, chained up and locked away like an animal, and he was buying tickets to see him. Nothing about this situation sat well with him...

The young woman sitting behind the desk has tilted, almond eyes like a fox and she looks incredibly bored to be there. She barely glances up as they approach and simply tells them that tickets will be $15 a piece. Monroe reaches for his wallet again but Barry beats him to it and steps up, passing the woman a plastic credit card wordlessly. She swipes it and gives it back it him, printing out four tickets and handing them to him. Barry thanks her and pockets the card, handing out the tickets to Monroe, Roddy, and Holly. Barry doesn't mention the money so no one else does either; for as much as his father makes, Barry is actually pretty self-conscious about using his father's money. Monroe leads the way and they go to join the crowd standing near the warehouse door.

The crowd is large, bigger than Monroe thought it would be, and there's a buzz of excitement that ripples through the people waiting like a surge of electricity. It's like the static that builds right before a concert starts, the barely contained energy that's literally jumping to get out. There are excited whispers, dramatic gestures, and Monroe hears the word "Grimm" more times than he can count. It makes him anxious and angry at how many people had come to see Nick put on display, how many were here to see him caged like a wild animal caught on a safari. He knows the kids hear it too because they're looking around nervously each time the word "Grimm" is mentioned and they seem to be torn between anger and fear just like he is. In a crowd this size there's no telling what could happen and they all know it.

The doors to the warehouse swing open and there's a sudden surge of movement toward them, the people shuffling and crowding themselves into some semblance of a line in order to get through the doors. The two men standing at the door collect tickets as people pass, scanning them absently with ticket guns before dropping them into a bin on the ground. Monroe motions the kids forward and they walk toward the door, caught up in the crowd of people.

He takes a deep breath as he hands his ticket to the man on his left, watching as he drops it into the bin and nods him inside. The kids look at him as well, sharing his expression. Monroe takes another breath and steps through the doors. "Here we go…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading guys! :D


	7. Come One, Come All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's probably one of the most pathetic things he's ever seen. Nick is sitting in the middle of the cage, looking small and vulnerable behind the thick metal bars. He's shirtless, clad only in a pair of dirty, blood spattered jeans, and his entire upper body is covered in cuts and bruises. All in all, he looks exactly like one of the abused animals that are always shown in the ASPCA commercials.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I kinda based the Ringleader of the side show off Harold (the owner) from Moulin Rouge and the weasels from Who Framed Roger Rabbit =p Hope you all like it! :D

The warehouse is big enough to resemble a small stadium and there's a wooden stage set up at the front. Rows of chairs and benches have been moved in to accommodate the spectators and nearly everyone is vying for a seat toward the front. There are no numbers and no letters when it comes to finding a seat, it's literally first come first serve.

Monroe can hear some of the people toward the front snapping and snarling at each other as they fight over seats trying to get closer and he wouldn't be surprised if a full blown fight broke out before it was all said and done. He's already made the conscious decision to hang toward the back because he's honestly not sure he'll be able to control himself once he sees Nick. The human side of him will obviously want to approach the situation rationally but the wolf side is not above charging the stage and ripping the head off of anyone who stands in the way.

He hangs back toward the back few rows, the kids looking at him curiously. They want to be closer to the stage, closer to rescuing Nick, but just as Monroe doesn't exactly trust himself, he certainly doesn't trust the teens not to charge in with guns blazing either. He knows he's on a hair trigger and they can't be too far behind him; one wrong move could ruin the entire rescue mission though and he knows that as well. At the confused looks from the teens, Monroe simply shakes his head and motions them to sit down in one of the back rows. They look ready to protest, all three of them, but no one says anything and they all sit down side by side, shoulder to shoulder. They'd listened to Monroe this far, they'd followed his advice until now, and no one seems ready to break from that streak just yet. Whatever questions or discrepancies they have can wait until later.

There's a shift of movement toward the front and Monroe's attention snaps forward, catching the emergence of two men wearing all black that walk onto the stage. Monroe stiffens instantly, just barely able to catch the growl that builds in his throat. It's the Nachtkrapp, dark and predatory like crows lingering in the shadows. They look similar but not identical, both with dark hair and eyes and sharp avian features that look more animal than human even on the best of days. One has a cast wrapped around his arm, the thick plaster stretching up the length of his forearm and stopping just below his elbow. His movements are stiff and measured with that arm and Monroe feels a grim sense of satisfaction as he realizes Nick was probably the cause of the injury in the first place. The other one looks relatively unscathed, watching his partner on stage with a critical eye like a boss watching his employee. Obviously he's the leader, the one in charge of the other one at least. He was probably the one who led the attack on Nick…

The growl does escape his throat this time and the kids hear it. Holly frowns and looks from Monroe to the stage, seeing the Nachtkrapp up toward the front. Her eyes narrow and an equally threatening growl rumbles in her chest, her teeth bared and her fingers clenching over denim clad legs. Barry and Roddy notice this as well and both are shooting murderous looks toward the stage, looking like they want nothing more than to go bird hunting and tear off their wings. Wisely, no one moves, they all stay completely still and continue to glare at the stage. No sense in getting caught before the show ever starts.

An announcement comes over the loud speaker advising the audience to remain sitting and not approach the stage until after the show is over. The usual warnings about medical conditions are given and the audience is asked to please refrain from smoking while in the warehouse. Very shortly after the announcement ends, the lights are dimmed and a spotlight is cast on the stage. A short man with sharp, weasel-like features appears in the middle of the spotlight and he smiles wickedly at the audience. He's wearing a red suit jacket and a black top hat. He's the ringleader.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, creatures of all different kinds, I humbly thank you for coming to this evening's performance. Some of what you might see tonight will shock and amaze, confound and confuse, terrify and horrify. Those of you with heart conditions, weak stomachs, and small children are cautioned that some of the performances may be disturbing to some audience members. Please note where the exits are."

As if taking their cue, the two Nachtkrapp onstage blandly point to the highlighted exit signs on either side of the building. After a moment of silence and eager anticipation, the ringleader smiles another weasely smile and steps to the side. "Let the show begin."

The stage is immediately filled with performers, acrobats, and clowns. A few of them are funny, some are beautiful, some are terrifying, and all of them are spread across the stage performing their crafts. One man is juggling anvils, another is swallowing flaming swords and bits of glass, and there's a woman in the corner with shifty eyes like a chameleon who keeps changing colors to blend in with the background. There are pyrotechnics, strobe lights, and smoke screens and the audience loves it. Well, everyone except for Monroe and the kids. They're watching the stage with detached attention, clearly uninterested in the performers who are trying so hard to impress them. They're here for one reason and no amount of incredible feats can change that fact.

The performers disappear from the stage, slipping behind a black curtain and going into hidden back rooms. One by one they come back on stage, each one performing their own special talent in 15-20 minute increments. The sword-swallower is first, doing the usual party tricks like lying on a bed of nails, suspending himself with a hook through his back, swallowing all manners of sharp and deadly objects with little more than a blink. It's grotesque and gruesome and he gets a standing ovation.

A group of fire dancers comes out next, followed by two men who weave straw into gold and one who swallows pieces of coal and coughs up diamonds. The chameleon girl comes out and changes the color of her skin with the flash of a card, literally, and it's almost a game to see if there's a color she can't change herself into. The audience quickly discovers that there isn't one.

The performances continue for nearly an hour and by that time it's obvious the audience is beginning to get restless. True, the performances are interesting and entertaining but they didn't come for fire dancers and sword-swallowers; they came to see a Grimm. The ringleader seems to recognize the shift in the crowd's enthusiasm and nods to one of the Nachtkrapp at the side of the stage. The head Nachtkrapp nods in understanding and disappears behind the black curtain just as the last performer leaves.

The ringleader steps back up to the middle of the stage and holds up his hands to silence the waves of applause. "Ladies and gentlemen, we've approached the end of our show and the main event, the reason you're all here." Immediately there's an eruption of cheers and applause and Monroe feels something tight twist in his stomach. His palms are sweating and there's a flutter of anxiety in his stomach that hadn't been there before. They're about to bring out Nick, his idiot, annoying, too-nice-for-his-own-good Grimm. The same Grimm he'd thrown out of his house weeks earlier, the same Grimm he told was no better than the monsters he hunted. Monroe feels sick and he's not sure if it's from nerves or guilt.

A large, black curtained covered cage is rolled out onto the stage and almost instantly, the crowd is silenced. The head Nachtkrapp is pulling the cage from the front and another one, one that hadn't been on the stage earlier, is pushing it front behind. The one at the back of the cage looks like he went three rounds with a professional boxer and lost miserably. One side of his face is covered with bruises that circle all the way down to his jaw and there's a deep gash at his hairline. He can't open one eye all the way and even without the use of both, it's easy to see he's glaring. The one with the broken arm joins them and they center the cage in the middle of the stage, stepping back and allowing the ringleader to step up to the front.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we urge you not to make any sudden movements, no flash photography, and no loud noises. The slightest disturbance could set the Grimm off and we all know how dangerous they can be." He looks at the audience conspiratorially like they're all sharing a personal experience. He takes a step back and grips the curtain with one hand. "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you a real live Grimm." The curtain comes back and Monroe feels like the world comes to complete halt.

It's probably one of the most pathetic things he's ever seen. Nick is sitting in the middle of the cage, looking small and vulnerable behind the thick metal bars. He's shirtless, clad only in a pair of dirty, blood spattered jeans, and his entire upper body is covered in cuts and bruises. His arms, torso, and chest look like he's been tossed into a paper shredder and there's a particularly deep gash on his left side that's been hastily covered with a thin piece of gauze. An ugly black and blue bruise is peeking out just beneath his hair at the edge of his temple and he squints painfully at the sudden intrusion of light from the removal of the curtain. Even from where he's sitting he's pretty sure he can count every single one of Nick's ribs. All in all, he looks exactly like one of the abused animals that are always shown in the ASPCA commercials.

Holly is trembling beside him, angry tears welling in her eyes, Barry looks like the only thing keeping him from ripping the ringleader in half is the fact that Nick is still very much captive in that cage, and Roddy is looking at him like he's wondering how many rats it would take to make his death as slow and painful as possible. Even through the blinding flash of red that hazes over his vision, Monroe is trying to examine the cage, looking for any weak spots that might be of easy access. He knows that in order for this rescue to be a success he needs to get Nick out as fast a possible and away from here. He just needs to figure out how to get through that cage…

Someone scoffs up toward the front and there's a male voice that echoes over the crowd. "He doesn't look so tough."

The ringleader smiles that same wicked smile and turns to face the man who spoke. "It seems that way doesn't it? He seems harmless enough from where you're sitting, right?" He taps the cage with the side of a cane causing Nick to flinch a bit and wince. Monroe really wants to tear his throat out now. "It's easy to be mistaken about these kinds of things; of course he looks harmless behind these bars, locked away where he can't reach you. But I'll have you know that this one right here, this Grimm, snapped the arm of one of my best men like it was a twig."

He snaps the cane in half with an audible crack and the entire audience flinches. "This one over here was nearly beaten to death by the Grimm in this cage," he goes on, motioning to the Nachtkrapp with the bruised face. "He was close to killing him with his bare hands before he was subdued." The ringleader looks out to the darkened audience, captivating their attention with every word. "Yes, he looks harmless enough in this cage but it took all three of my men to capture him and bring him in. This is not something you'd want to go up against in a dark alley." Monroe doesn't miss the way he refers to Nick as a "thing" and the wolf inside is snarling furiously.

The man reaches into the cage, grabbing Nick by one arm and jerking him off the ground. Nick stumbles forward, catching himself on the bars and clinging to them like they're the only things keeping him upright; unfortunately they probably are. Nick is standing awkwardly, not putting any weight on his right foot, and he's swaying even though he's standing still. His face is terribly pale beneath the bruises and cuts that mar his skin and there's a very slight sheen of sweat across his face that's causing his hair to stick to his forehead. Nick is breathing hard like the very effort of standing is taking its toll on him and he looks ready to topple over again at any minute. He's conscious though, he knows where he is, and he's glaring murderously at the man next to his cage.

"How did you catch him?" someone else asks from the audience and the ringleader takes the stage again.

"It was a tricky capture but he came to us," the ringleader answers, a look of smug satisfaction crossing his weasel-like features. "We'd gotten word that he was in the area, terrorizing the locals, and we knew we had to step in before someone was hurt or killed." There's a murmur of relief and thanks that ripples through the crowd before he continues.

"I sent my best men to retrieve him," he indicated the Nachtkrapp surrounding the cage with one hand. "I told them not to hurt him, to take him alive because even though he was killing innocents, even though he probably did deserve a bullet between the eyes, it wasn't our job to kill him. Instead, we could tuck him away here where he would never harm anyone again. We keep him locked up, we keep you safe. It was just that simple."

A few people clap, some cheer and whistle, and overall there seems to be an attitude of contentment with the beaten and bloody Grimm in the cage. Monroe bites his tongue hard enough to taste blood to keep from yelling at them all to shut the hell up. The kids are tight as bow strings next to him, ready to snap at any minute, and he knows they can't take much more of this and neither can he.

"The Grimm we have here is right where he should be, locked away in a cage like the animal he is," the man continues, tapping the cage with the palm of his hand as if to prove a point.

Suddenly there's a loud noise, a blur of movement, and it takes Monroe a second to figure out what had happened, enhanced eyesight and all. Nick had been waiting for the moment that the ringleader's hand would get close enough to him to make his move. The second his hand made contact with the edge of the cage, he darted his hand through the bars, grabbed the man's wrist, and twisted him toward the cage. The ringleader bounced off the thick metal bars like a rubber ball and found himself face to face with a very pissed off Grimm.

"If you don't let me out of here I swear to God-!" Nick snarls through the bars but his threat is cut short as one of the Nachtkrapp intercepts him by way of a cattle prod. The prod catches Nick just below the ribs and the crackle of electricity is audible all the way to the back of the warehouse. Nick lets out a strangled cry and crumples to the bottom of the cage, his grip on the ringleader's wrist dropping immediately.

Monroe is on his feet before he realizes it, shouting Nick's name, but it can't be heard over the terrified screams and gasps from the audience. Children are crying, women are clutching their husbands, and one girl even faints in the alley. It's total chaos and mob mentality begins to kick in almost immediately. "Kill it! Kill the Grimm!" the angry, terrified cries echo throughout the building and there's a surge of energy like the entire crowd is ready to storm the stage and take care of Nick themselves.

The ringleader has regained his composure by now and holds up his hands to placate the swarming crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm! The Grimm will be subdued and restrained, make no mistake. Creatures like him are unpredictable, these things happen all the time!" Behind him, the head Nachtkrapp had pulled out some kind of sedative from his pocket and deftly injected it into the crook of Nick's arm. The caged Grimm barely even flinches.

Monroe is watching in abject horror, frozen to the spot in a mixture of fury and terror. He needs to get Nick out of there and now but how? With this kind of crowd it would be impossible to get up to the stage without being seen. He watches carefully as the Nachtkrapp cover the cage again and begin wheeling it back behind the curtains that line the back of the stage. The ringleader is thanking the audience and dismissing them but Monroe barely hears him, he's working on a plan in his head.

Holly is on her feet next to him, tugging his sleeve incessantly and speaking excitedly. Barry and Roddy are looking for the quickest route to the stage and if they make a break for it there's nothing Monroe can do to stop them. He turns to Holly, capturing her attention as well as Barry and Roddy's. He has a plan; it's not a very _good_ plan but it's a plan nonetheless.

"Barry, take the others and go back to the truck. Bring it around the back of the building and be ready to go as soon as I get there."

"No way, man!" Barry protests, shaking his head vehemently. "You're not going in there alone! What if they catch you?"

"Monroe, we're coming too!" Roddy insists next to him, a look of determination crossing his face.

"We have to help Nick!" Holly says, still tugging on his sleeve and trying to get him to follow her up to the stage. Monroe is pretty sure the seams have already come loose on that side but he doesn't care.

"No. Listen to me. In this crowd it's going to be a lot harder for them to pick out one person than it would be to pick out four. Three teenage Wesen and a Blutbad aren't exactly the most inconspicuous things on the planet. Go get the truck and come to the back while I go find Nick." He looks at them seriously, eyes hardening a bit in determination. "If I'm not back by the time you get there…" He leaves the rest off because he's not even sure how to finish that sentence. Come find me? Drive away? He doesn't know what to say so he leaves it alone.

"But-"

"No buts. I can get in and out faster and I need you guys to be ready as soon as I say go, got it?"

The kids look hesitant, protests verging on the tips of their tongues, but finally Barry nods. "Fine. We'll get the truck and bring it back. Just make sure you find Nick by the time we get there."

Monroe nods and steps away from them, walking up toward the stage and disappearing in the crowd. Time for a Grimm prison break…

**OOOOO**

He guesses he should have expected the crowd after that last performance but he had no idea how big it would be. There's a throng of people behind the warehouse, clambering to get a closer look at the black curtained cage holding Nick. They're surging forward so violently he wouldn't be surprised if a total mob riot broke out before it was all said and done.

The two injured Nachtkrapp are standing in front of the cage, trying to break up the crowd, but it's like trying to break up a flock of pigeons to a crust of bread. Monroe gets closer, skirting just on the edges of the crowd and trying to get closer to the cage. He just needs a clean break…

A few of the other side show performers appear just then, grabbing the edges of the cage and rolling it away. "Sorry folks, show's over!" One of them shouts to the rampaging crowd and the door men who had taken all of their tickets before the show appear a few seconds later to disperse the crowd. Monroe falls back, keeping his eyes glued on the cage that's being rolled away. He lets himself get caught up in the ebb and flow of the crowd, allowing himself to be pushed along until he can break free without looking too suspicious.

He sees a chance and he takes it, disappearing around the edge of a booth holding a carnival game and emerging on the other side. The cage is being pulled into a large trailer toward the back of the lot, loaded in by the Nachtkrapp and the additional performers. Monroe makes his way over to the trailer silently, careful not to be seen.

After the cage is loaded, the other performers wander off to their own tents but the Nachtkrapp stay behind, lingering at the door. Their beady black eyes survey the parking lot carefully, looking for any sign of a threat or intrusion. Monroe is trying to figure out how he's going to get past them when the answer presents itself for him.

"Jasper! Leonard! Get in here!" a voice calls from somewhere behind the trailer and the two Nachtkrapp look at each other briefly before leaving the trailer and going toward the voice that called them. The trailer door bounces behind them but doesn't lock and Monroe thanks whatever god has chosen to smile upon him tonight. He makes his way across the rest of the parking lot and grabs the trailer door, swinging it open quietly and slipping inside.

The cage is sitting in the middle of the trailer, the curtains pulled away and tossed in the corner. Nick is in the middle of the cage, crumpled at the bottom in a boneless heap. He's not moving. Monroe's stomach does a nauseating flip and he reaches the bars, dropping to his knees beside the cage. "Nick! Nick, can you hear me? It's Monroe!"

If Nick did hear him, he didn't make any kind of movement to acknowledge it. He remains motionless in the cage, half-curled on his side like a broken doll. Monroe can hear him breathing so he knows he's not dead but he's so still and pale that it does nothing to relieve him. He looks at the lock on the cage, a standard padlock, and wishes he knew someone who could pick locks.

He stands, walking toward the front of the cage and taking the padlock in his hands. It's heavy, industrial strength, and it's hooked through the front two bars to keep them closed. Monroe glances back at the still figure of the Grimm in the cage and figures he really doesn't have time for this. Gripping the lock in both hands, he pulls with every ounce of strength he possesses, gritting his teeth in frustration. The bars bend and creak against his pulling but the lock doesn't quite break. He takes a deep breath and tries again, pulling as hard as he can, and finally the lock breaks free, twisted and broken in his hands. He drops it to the ground and pulls open the bars, stepping into the cage and dropping to his knees next to Nick.

"Nick! Hey man, come on. I need you to open your eyes for me, okay?" He reaches out, cupping the younger man's cheek. Nick's face is clammy and feverish against his palm, the bruises and scrapes standing out in stark contrast against the paleness of his skin. He keeps hoping that his voice would be enough to pull Nick out of the sedative-induced unconsciousness but it doesn't; Nick remains limp and boneless at the bottom of the cage.

"Jesus man…they really did a number on you, huh?" he mutters to himself, brushing Nick's sweat-damp hair away from his forehead before moving his hand down to press his fingers to the side of his throat. Nick's pulse is thready and uneven, fluttering against his fingertips like a hummingbird in a cage; Monroe vaguely wonders how much of that is from his injuries and how much of it is from the fact that Nick just took a cattle prod to the ribs.

The younger man stirs ever so slightly, wincing beneath the bruises and opening his eyes to slits. He blinks slowly, deliberately, and Monroe knows all of that is coming from the sedative they'd given him. "M'nroe…?" Nick mumbles, his eyes unfocused and glassy. Okay, so maybe not all of it was from the sedative…

"Yeah man, it's me," Monroe assures him, brushing his thumb over the bruised cheekbone lightly. "Come on, we have to get you out of here."

Nick tries to reach up but his hand doesn't quite make it off the floor. Instead he pushes against Monroe's knee as hard as he can, which is barely more than a nudge, and shakes his head slowly. "Not real…not real…like last time…not real…" Nick words are a mumbled mess, a string of barely coherent sentences broken apart by long pauses and shaking gasps. "Not here…s' not real…"

"Jesus Nick…" Monroe mutters, feeling his heart clench in his chest a little bit at the brokenness in Nick's voice. How many times had he dreamed or hallucinated that Monroe was here and woke up only to discover he was still locked in a cage alone? The thought makes him sick and he has to swallow the burning bile that coats the back of his throat. "I'm here now, I promise. I'm here to take you home…"

"Not real…not real…"

"I am real and I'm getting you out of here. Come on," he reaches out to slip his arms around Nick's shoulders but there's suddenly an explosion of pain in his lower back and he falls to the bottom of the cage with a startled cry. He gasps, his lower back and hip flaring mercilessly, and rolls onto his side to figure out what had hit him.

The head Nachtkrapp is standing above the cage holding something that looks an awful lot like a baseball bat. Beside him are the other two Nachtkrapp, blocking the entrance to the trailer, and in front of them is the ringleader, smiling that same wicked, weasely smile again. "Well, well, well…what do we have here? A Blutbad come to steal my Grimm?"

Monroe sighs through clenched teeth; this rescue just got a lot harder to accomplish...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack! Poor Monroe! But hey at least he found Nick, right? More to come soon! :D


	8. Rescue Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Guys!" Roddy snaps and there's an urgency in his voice that doesn't go unnoticed this time. Both Monroe and Barry stop their shouting match and look in the backseat, eyes landing on the terrified Reinigen. "Something's wrong…he's…I don't know if he's still breathing…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know Monroe could easily defeat these guys (I mean come on, the man ripped a dude's arm off in one episode) but I had to have him subdued to have a more dramatic rescue scene. Savvy? =p Hope you all like it! :D

Gravity takes a nosedive for a second and Monroe is momentarily disoriented as he's flipped onto his back and dragged out of the cage by his ankle. He's flipped again, one arm wrenched sharply behind his back, a heavy knee pressing painfully into his lower back, and there's the distinctly metal feeling of the baseball bat pressing itself into the back of his head. One of the Nachtkrapp is pinning him to the floor of the trailer, one of them is standing in front of the door of the cage, and the one with the baseball bat is ready to use his head for target practice at a signal from the ringleader in front of them. In short, he's well and truly screwed…

"Mind telling me why you're trying to steal my number one attraction?" the ringleader asks, crouching down in front of him so he's more or less eye level with Monroe. The Blutbad still has to crane his neck to the side to see him and the pressure on his back increases marginally. The pain is staggering, like a knife stabbing into his spine, and it causes his breath to hitch awkwardly. All the fury, all the rage he'd possessed before coming in here, all the terrible things he wanted to do to the men in this trailer…and now he was essentially paralyzed on the floor. Things couldn't really get much worse at the moment.

"I'm going to ask you again," the ringleader drawls and his pointed features shift a bit in a mask of barely controlled irritation. "Why are you trying to steal my Grimm?"

Monroe winces before he speaks. "Ngh…I'm an activist…a member of WETOG…you know, Wesen for the Ethical Treatment Of Grimms? I was sent to set him free…"

The ringleader smirks that same wicked smile and shakes his head, straightening and brushing past him over to the cage. The Nachtkrapp standing in front of the cage steps to the side and allows him to enter the cage alone with Nick. The detective is still too delirious to comprehend what's going on and he's curled on his side, mumbling incoherently. Monroe feels his stomach drop a bit at the position he's in. "I don't believe you," he says simply, tapping his fingers along the metal bars of the cage. "You called him by name which means you know him personally. So I'm going to ask you one more time," he fixes Monroe with a dark look that says he's getting tired of waiting for an answer. "Why are you here?"

Monroe shakes his head to the best of his ability, which is pretty jerky and awkward from his position on the trailer floor. Revealing that he knew Nick personally could have disastrous consequences for both of them; well, more disastrous than they already were. He needed to stall for just a bit longer so he could figure out how to get them out of this situation. He just needed an opening, anything that could give him the advantage…"I don't know what you're talking about…I've never met this guy before in my life…"

The ringleader's eyes narrow and he sneers. "Liar." He lashes out at Nick with a vicious kick, catching the younger man in his wounded side. Nick gasps harshly, a strangled cry cutting from his throat, and curls in on himself, covering his side protectively. Monroe can smell blood, fresh and hot, and there's a darkening red stain that suddenly appears on the white bandages between Nick's fingers. Monroe growls deep and low in his chest, eyes flashing crimson and teeth gleaming in the dim light of the trailer.

The ringleader smirks again and circles around Nick like a hungry shark. "So you do know him? What a surprise…" He passes by Nick's right ankle, the one he'd been avoiding putting weight on earlier in the show, and brings his foot down sharply. Nick cries out again, drawing his leg up to his chest and trying to alleviate some of the pain.

He's sweating now, trembling all over, and his breathing is ragged and harsh. He can't take much more of this, not in the condition he's already in, and Monroe knows it. "You know, I'm growing weary of your silence…" The ringleader mutters, dropping down to one knee beside Nick and reaching for his arm.

"Okay, okay!" Monroe snarls, struggling against the Nachtkrapp pinning him to the floor. The pressure increases on his back and the baseball bat presses more firmly into the side of his head. It hurts but he doesn't care, he just wants that man to get out of the cage with Nick. "We went to high school together…never really talked much but I recognized him…" He hopes like hell the lie will be enough to convince him.

The ringleader glares at him but moves away from the cage, stepping out and nodding for the other Nachtkrapp to take his place back in front of the cage. "You're a horrible liar," he mutters, walking past the other two Nachtkrapp and sitting down on a wooden crate next to the wall of the trailer. He pulls a long, thin cigar out of his coat pocket and clutches it between his teeth, striking a match deftly and lighting it. The momentary glow from the match gives him almost a demonic appearance.

"And whatever your relationship to this Grimm is doesn't matter to me. I own him now and he's part of my show; he's brought in more money in one weekend than I've seen in six months. He's my big ticket item and if I keep up with crowds like the one we had tonight, I can retire in the Bahamas in two years." He smirks and leans forward, blowing a stream of smoke into Monroe's face. "That Grimm is my meal ticket, my rightful property, and whatever friendships or relationships he had before matter very little to me."

"He's not property…" Monroe grinds out, a flare of rage and indignation washing through him. He wants so badly to tear that smirk off the other man's face that he can almost taste it. "He's not yours to own…"

"Oh, isn't he?" The man smirks again and takes another drag on his cigar. "You should be thanking me for keeping him locked up in here. You know what he is, right? You know what he does to our kind. He's a killer, a murderer...locking him up was the best thing that could have ever happened to him. You know the best thing to do with a dangerous animal? Lock it up and throw away the key." He smirks and inclines his head toward the opening of the trailer. "You heard that crowd earlier, they were practically worshipping me for keeping this monster locked away."

"He's not a monster!" Monroe snarls and thrashes violently against the Nachtkrapp pinning him to the ground. There's a sharp crack against the back of his head and he momentarily sees stars, the world exploding in a flash of white. It takes him a second to regain his senses and realize he's been hit with the baseball bat. That Nachtkrapp would be the first to go…

"The term "monster" is a matter of opinion," the ringleader continues even though his voice sounds hazy and far away. "Ask any Wesen on the street what they think about Grimms and they'll all tell you the same thing: they should all be locked away like rabid dogs. I'm doing the world a favor by keeping this one here. Granted, he's caused us quite a bit of grief since he arrived."

He sneers and looks over toward Nick's cage. The younger man is motionless once more in the bottom of the cage, silent save for the ragged draw of breath that occasionally fills the air. "He nearly escaped his first night here so we had to take some... precautions to prevent that from happening again." Monroe's gaze flickers to Nick's swollen and bruised right ankle and realizes with a start that it's broken. They had purposefully broken Nick's ankle so he wouldn't be able to run away. He growls again, his vision going red in fury.

"Although according to his little stunt tonight I don't think he's quite learned his lesson yet…" the ringleader says with a sneer, glaring at the unconscious Grimm in the cage. "We'll just have to work a bit harder with him so he understands where his place is in this show. Hopefully he'll be a bit more cooperative in the next town." Monroe doesn't miss the look he gives to the Nachtkrapp and he knows it's nothing good. "Until then, I'm afraid I've wasted far too much time with you."

He stands, glaring at Monroe before nodding to the Nachtkrapp in the trailer. "Keep the Grimm locked up until he can be dealt with and take care of this one." He smirks wickedly at Monroe and shakes his head. "You really should have known better than to come in here alone trying to save the day…that only works in the movies."

Monroe winces but feels a sense of relief at the loud rumble of a truck in the distance. It's his turn to smirk and he looks up, locking eyes with the ringleader. "Who said anything about me coming alone?"

There's a tremendous crash and the trailer suddenly rocks to the side, tipping the ringleader and the Nachtkrapp off balance and giving Monroe the opening he needs. He's on his feet instantly, grabbing a fistful of the ringleader shirt and slamming him up against the side of the trailer. His facial features shift and he's snarling at the other man, crimson eyes locked on him with predatory fury. The ringleader's eyes widen and he momentarily forgets how to speak, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. The Nachtkrapp are attempting to regain their balance and one is already trying to rush at Monroe but there's a blur of movement and he's thrown backward. Monroe doesn't even have to look behind him to know that Holly and Barry are suddenly in the trailer, cornering the Nachtkrapp like wolves. He ignores them and turns his attention back to ringleader.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't rip your throat out right here," he growls furiously, shaking the man viciously like a rag doll and causing his head to bounce off the trailer wall loudly. The ringleader seems momentarily at a loss for words and he doesn't respond. "Answer me!" Monroe snarls, bringing his face closer to him and baring his teeth.

"I-I was just doing what was right…" He stammers and he smells like fear; it's like wet trash on a hot day. "I was trying to protect our kind…"

"Liar!" Monroe barks, slamming him against the wall again with enough force to dent it. The ringleader is momentarily dazed but he's shaking his head weakly.

"Please…you have to believe me…I was only trying to do what's right…" He gasps, imploring Monroe to believe him. "He's a killer…a monster…he's a Grimm…!"

Monroe snarls again and his grip on the man's shirt tightens to the point of shredding cloth. "He's _my_ Grimm! And if you ever come near him again I'll make sure you stay alive long enough to watch me tear out your heart." The ringleader is trembling in his grip, eyes wide with fear, and its everything Monroe can do not to rip his throat out right then.

"Monroe!" Roddy is suddenly at his side, tugging against his arm fruitlessly; it's like pulling against an iron bar. "Monroe, come on! We need to get Nick and get out of here! Come on, man!"

Monroe regains some control over his senses and slams the ringleader into the wall one last time before releasing him. The man crumbles to the floor in a heap and stays there, dazed and terrified. Monroe turns back toward the cage and sees that Barry and Holly have taken care of the Nachtkrapp; "taken care of" in pissed off teenage Wesen terms means they're in a bloody pile of tangled and broken limbs on the floor of the trailer. None of them are moving and Monroe doesn't particularly care, all he cares about is Nick.

The younger man is still at the bottom of the cage, motionless and silent. He's pale, paler than he'd been when Monroe first arrived in the trailer, and his breathing is raspy and weak. He runs into the cage and scoops him up, mindful of the injuries, and cradles him close. "Come on Nick, time to go home…" The Grimm doesn't respond but then Monroe hadn't really expected him too, his head simply lolls to one side against Monroe's shoulder and he hangs in his arms limply like a broken rag doll.

Barry's eyes narrow at the sight of the beaten Grimm and Holly looks like she's ready to cry but neither of them say anything as they follow him out. Roddy already has the backdoor to the truck open and he climbs inside as Monroe approaches the truck, reaching out and carefully pulling Nick into the backseat. Holly climbs in after him, cradling Nick's head in her lap, and Monroe and Barry take the front seat. Monroe casts one more murderous look at the trailer as Barry shifts the truck into drive and pulls away from the sideshow and the circus all together.

**OOOOO**

They're barely out of the parking lot before the questions and the talking starts and it sounds like the hum of static in Monroe's ears.

"What the hell was that?"

"They were keeping Nick in a cage like a dog!"

"They hurt Nick!"

"Jesus man, he's really bleeding back here…"

Monroe shakes his head to clear his vision and his thoughts before he answers; that blow to the head must have been a bit harder than he originally thought. "They were using him to bring in money…just like you said…" He chances a glance into the backseat at Roddy but the Reinigen isn't looking at him, he's focused on Nick. He has one hand pressed over the wound in Nick's side and the other pressed over his heart, watching him breathe with fearful eyes. Holly has huge, crocodile tears hovering in her eyes and she's stroking Nick's hair absently, her long finger shaking each time she runs them through his hair. Nick is completely unconscious, dark hair falling over his eyes and one arm dangling limply over the edge of the seat. The bloody bandage on his side is dark with fresh blood and tiny rivets of red at trickling down his side; if the smell bothers anyone in the car no one shows it.

"You should have killed him," Barry growls, drawing Monroe's attention back to the front. "That bastard…you should have ripped his throat out when you had the chance…"

Monroe sighs and shakes his head. "It wouldn't have solved anything…he won't come for Nick again…"

"How can you be sure?" Barry asks, glaring daggers out the darkened windshield like the road had somehow personally offended him. "You don't know he won't come back. Threats only last for so long before the fear wears off. We took his biggest attraction, the source of his income, and you think he won't try to come back and take him again?"

"He won't, Barry," Monroe insists because he has to believe he was right about not killing him outright. He has to believe that he took the higher road.

"But he could! You can't be sure! You can't be sure he'll never come back for Nick unless he's dead!"

"Well, I'm not a killer!"

"You say that now but he had no problem trying to off you before we got there so how does that make things any different?"

"Because I'm not like him!"

"Hey guys…" Roddy says from somewhere in the back seat but neither of them are paying attention to him.

"You should have killed him when you had the chance to make sure something like this never happens again!"

"Violence isn't always the answer, Barry! Killing someone shouldn't be the go-to plan every time something bad happens!"

"Guys…" Roddy says again and once again it goes unheeded.

"Did you see what they did to him? How they were treating him? You think he would have thought twice about saving Nick if it ever came down to it? He would have killed him if it didn't make him so much money! He would have killed him and left his body in a gutter and you just let him walk away!"

"Guys!" Roddy snaps and there's an urgency in his voice that doesn't go unnoticed this time. Both Monroe and Barry stop their shouting match and look in the backseat, eyes landing on the terrified Reinigen. Roddy's eyes are huge and he gestures to Nick frantically with one hand. "Something's wrong…he's…I don't know if he's still breathing…"

"What!" Monroe chokes, a hollow crash in the pit of his stomach making his voice come out as little more than a croak. He's bounding over the seat before he realizes it and is only vaguely aware of Barry pulling off to the side of the road.

Roddy still has his hand pressed over Nick's heart and his other hand is squeezing the detective's limp hand in his own. Holly is trembling, her long hair falling across her face, and she's shaking Nick gently like she's trying to wake him up. The Grimm is lifeless in her lap, head lolled to the side and dark eyes closed from view; he honestly looks like a corpse. Monroe is at his side in an instant, kneeling on the floorboards and pressing his fingers to the younger man's throat. Nick's pulse is weak and thready, getting weaker by the second, and he's not breathing. Monroe curses viciously.

"Oh God…" he mutters and for a terrifying second he freezes. Nick is literally dying right in front of him and he doesn't know what to do. He thinks of every fairy tale, every bedtime story he's ever heard that might help in this situation but comes up blank every time. There's absolutely nothing in Grimm's book of fairy tales that says what to do when your sort-of best friend is in the middle of respiratory arrest in the backseat of a Hummer after being kidnapped by carnies. He curses again because damn it all, he did not come all this way to find Nick to have him freakin' die in the backseat!

"Monroe, do something!" Roddy begs and there are tears in his eyes that refuse to fall. Holly is saying Nick's name over and over again in a sort of broken voice that makes his stomach clench and Barry looks like he's one step away from losing his composure like the rest of them. Monroe looks back at Nick, taking in his pale face and the bluish tint his lips are beginning to take on, and knows he needs to do something fast. He'd taken a First Aid class back in college but that had been years ago and he never actually thought he would use it. He knew how to set a Band-Aid and that was about it. Still, he couldn't let Nick die and he had to try something so he dug up all the old lectures over First Aid he'd taken and searched for something that might be of use.

He reaches out, tilting Nick's head up a bit and sitting up on his knees so he's positioned above him. He just barely remembered the basics of mouth-to-mouth and really the only reason he remembered it at all was because the instructor for that day had been incredibly hot. He shakes his head, he can't think about that right now, and goes back to the task at hand. Nick's skin feels cool and clammy against his fingers as he pinches his nose shut and he suppresses a shiver that works its way up his spine. He leans forward, feeling entirely too self-conscious for his own good when he realizes all the kids are watching him, but he knows there's no other way around it. _Sorry dude, you're probably going to have wicked beard rash from this but…_

He closes his mouth over Nick's, trying to ignore the coolness of the younger man's lips against his own, and breathes into him. From the corner of his eye he can see Nick's chest rise just a bit beneath Roddy's hand. The Reinigen looks only slightly relieved and nods to him to continue. "It's working!"

Monroe nods briefly and breathes for him again, trying to recall other little tidbits of information from his first aid training as he goes. Nick needs a hospital, there's no denying that, but they need to keep him alive long enough to get to a hospital too. He breathes again, silently encouraging Nick to just freakin' breathe already and help them out a little. _Come on Nick…come back to us…_

There's a sputtering cough and Nick's body jerks in Holly's lap, his eyes squeezing shut in pain. Roddy lets out a relieved laugh and Holly is smiling through her tears but their relief is short lived when Nick slumps and goes limp again.

Monroe reaches out, grinding his knuckles into Nick's sternum and rubbing them back and forth roughly. "No, no, none of that…come on…" Nick gasps and groans, curling on one side and managing to regain what little consciousness he has left. His breathing is harsh and ragged but at least he is breathing and for now that's all that matters.

Monroe sighs, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and runs a hand through his hair. "Idiot Grimm…" he mumbles affectionately, reaching out to cup Nick's face. The younger man's skin is still clammy and cool against his own but he's breathing and alive and Monroe honestly can't complain right now. Holly and Roddy are hovered all around him, touching his face, hair, neck, chest, anything they can to convince themselves he's still alive. They both look terrified and Monroe can't really blame them, he's not too calm and confident at the moment right now either. Still, he needs to keep it together for a little while longer, just until they can find a hospital.

"You two keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn't take a turn for the worse again," Monroe says and Holly and Roddy nod quickly, turning their attention back to the now barely conscious Grimm. Seeing that Nick is in good hands for the time being, Monroe climbs back over the seat and settles back into the passenger side. Barry is looking at him with wide, panicked eyes, waiting for instructions. Monroe just looks at him grimly; he can taste Nick's blood in his mouth. "Find us a hospital. Fast."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, at least the got him away from the carnies right?

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, Monroe was kind of a jerk, huh? It'll get better though I promise!


End file.
